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sketchguk · 1 year ago

Text

part time lover; jjk

➳ pairing: investigative journalist!jeongguk x daycare teacher!reader. alternatively, spy!jeongguk x assassin!reader

➳ genre: smut, fluff, angst, fake marriage au, dad au, spy x family au

➵ word count: 30.8k

➳ summary: there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school.

only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time.

➳ warnings: themes of parenthood, raising a child, reader and jk were both orphans, reader has a past where she struggled with financially supporting her family, eldest daughter trauma, reader is insecure, fears of abandonment, mentions of violence and m*rder (but not explicit), mention of weapons (guns, knives, grenades, poison), jk has a bruise from boxing, descriptions of an explosion, blood is drawn twice (via kitchen knife and shrapnel from aforementioned explosion), (1) mention of weight loss, jk changes his appearance in an attempt to fit in, mention of a minor car crash, social drinking, scars (surgical/knife, bullet wounds), characters are liars for the sake of the plot, side characters are misogynists (satire), food descriptions, pet names (hers: angel, good girl, princess his: love).

➳ a/n: thank you for being so patient with me as i toiled through this fic. it wasn't an easy one! but i do think it's special because of how healing the journey was for me <3 please enjoy, let me know what you think. don't forget to check out the other fics from the "industry baby" collab hosted by the ever so lovely @jeonjcngkook and @mercurygguk !

➳ smut warnings: virgin reader, sexual tension, body worship, nipple play, marking, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex, jk has a big dick, praising, stomach bulge, spitting, use of the word slut, marriage kink(?) he loves his wife so much, reader wants to be bred, cumshot

Jeongguk, 26 Investigative journalist at Golden News Network Less than a mile away To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only).

“Your profile is dog shit,” Seokjin deadpans. The cringe settles into the downward turn of his lips as he swipes through his best friend’s Tinder account. “You’d be bitchless if you weren’t hot.”

“Jin, watch your mouth.” Jeongguk shoots a deadly glare toward the older man. “There are children around.”

From the kitchen, Jeongguk cranes his neck to take a peek into the messy living room where his adopted daughter sits, criss-crossed, in front of the television. Minji is too distracted by her weekly cartoon updates to even notice the crude language.

“Minny, don’t sit too close to the TV,” he sends his daughter a stern yet gentle reminder. “Your eyeballs are gonna fall out of your head if you do.”

A frown etches itself onto Minji’s face as she scooches back on her knees.

Jeongguk returns his attention to the dinner he’s preparing tonight. A pot of homemade tomato sauce simmers on the stovetop.

In the back of his mind, he wonders if his dating profile is as terribly unappealing as Seokjin says it is. Otherwise he wouldn’t have so many notifications, right? ー Messages from girls, asking if he could be their daddy too. Jeongguk’s bio is short and straight to the point. He’s not that ugly, or so he thinks. Being a journalist is a respectable occupation with steady income. So what could be so bad about it?

Is it the fact that Jeongguk isn’t even his real name ー nothing but a fake persona to help him with his investigation? Maybe it’s because his adopted daughter doesn’t have a striking resemblance to him, and his pictures look like a shady scam.

But there’s no way that they can see through Jeongguk’s facade. After all, he’s the best spy in the agency. His specialty is deceit. It’s foolproof. There’s no reason not to believe him.

“I think they’re really into the whole dad thing,” Jeongguk nods, focusing on the sliced onions in front of him. The smell of garlic and fresh herbs permeate through the air.

“Really?” Seokjin says in feigned disbelief. He leans back against the couch, making himself comfortable. “It’s not because of the video where you’re deepthroating a deep dish pizza? Just for that, I would have gotten on my hands and knees to suck your di-.”

“Can you seriously watch your language?” Jeongguk cuts him off before pointing a knife in his direction.

Kim Seokjin may be his closest colleague, but that’s exactly where he draws the line. Seokjin is nothing more than Jeongguk’s informant. His job is to get the latest intel on all of his targets, and that’s it. He’s not here to fool around or make friends.

“We took that video in Chicago. Doesn’t it show that I’m well traveled?” Jeongguk asks with genuine curiosity. He remembers reading an article about how women love that sort of stuff.

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s gonna be a long, long night,” he mutters to himself. His best friend is beyond the point of fixing, but at least he makes a good househusband.

Jeongguk wipes his hands against his frilly apron before dipping a wooden spoon into the pot. He inches the tomato sauce closer to his pursed lips as he blows on the piping hot confection. It could use more parsley.

Just when Jeongguk thought he could distract himself with cooking, he suddenly remembers the pressing problem that occupies all of his brain space: he is in desperate need of a wife. The constant reminder is taped to the front of the fridge 一 a letter from Minji’s prospective elementary school.

Dear Jeon family, Congratulations! Your child’s preliminary results indicate that he/she has passed the entrance exam at Hwa Yang Academy. Our institution carries a prestigious reputation, accepting only the nation’s brightest students. Due to your child’s outstanding academic score, we invite you to the second phase of admissions where a family interview will be conducted. Please have both parents and child present at Yeon Hwa Hall on the first of May, promptly at 10am. It is our good fortune that you chose to apply to Hwa Yang Academy. We look forward to welcoming you and your family to our renowned institution. Sincerely, Department of Admissions at Hwa Yang Academy

The fact that Minji received an interview at the top school in the nation is amazing beyond belief. Everything is going according to plan. The only problem is that Jeon Jeongguk is, in fact, bitchless.

“Remind me again, why do you need to get Minji into that school?” Seokjin furrows his brows. He’s never seen his best friend this stressed. The way that Jeongguk is willing to jump through hoops makes him feel as if he’s never wanted anything so bad in his life.

Jeongguk clenches the wooden spoon in his hand, threatening to give himself a splinter. “I have to get access to Hwa Yang,” he says, like it’s do or die. “There are families with infinite amounts of political power there, including the prime minister. The big boss suspects that they’re planning a rebellion, and I need to get close to them to expose their secrets. Obviously I can’t even touch the elite without pretending to be one myself. So I need this family to be as perfect as it can be.”

“You think you can prevent a whole rebellion and save the country if you go to a few parent association meetings? Bake a batch of cookies like a soccer mom?” Seokjin’s questions are sarcastic, but he’s not wrong. He needs to infiltrate the prime minister’s inner circle, befriend him, and uncover his government secrets. But doing so would be impossible without first securing a wife and earning acceptance into the school.

“If it comes down to making a paper mache volcano, I’ll do it.” The determination in Jeongguk’s eyes is unwavering.

“You really expect to get through the admission interview with a fake wife? I can’t even get a single date, but you think you can get married by the end of the month?” Seokjin laughs at the expense of his own heartache.

“Maybe the mommies would like you more if you weren’t so de-looshe-in-ull,” Minji chimes.

Has she been listening all along?

“Delusional?” Seokjin scoffs, fueled with exasperation. Lately, he’s had thoughts about being a kinder person, yet a part of him still believes that he deserves the last word in every conversation. “Where did you learn about that?” he queries, balling up his hands.

“Appa,” Minji replies, pointing at the man in question.

Seokjin winds his fist back as if he’s throwing a punch across the room, but he listens to the screaming voice in the back of his head. The one that tells him he’s much too pretty to get pummeled today ー that his face would look better if Jeongguk’s fist wasn’t imprinted on the surface of it. So instead of starting a fight with a five year old girl, Seokjin folds his knees against his chest, cursing under his breath. Maybe he can be the bigger person.

“So why can’t the agency send another spy operative to play house with you?” Seokjin asks, resorting to a life of civility under Jeongguk’s roof. He forces a smile through gritted teeth and returns his attention to the dating app in the palm of his hands, half-listening to his best friend.

“Well, a bunch of police officers arrested our agents. There’s only a few people left on the team. Haven’t you seen the news? The government is cracking down on espionage.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, clenching his jaw. “They use women as their scapegoat, filling up some stupid quota for incarceration.” How can men be so ignorant and simple minded?

Ironically, Seokjin flashes his phone in front of Jeongguk’s face. “Swipe left or right, what do you think?” Yep, the minds of men are pretty simple, and Seokjin definitely didn’t hear a single word that came out of Jeongguk’s mouth.

Y/N Daycare teacher at children’s municipal library 1 mile away Critics review: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “Loves her emotional support characters, and will only ever love her emotional support characters” “Can’t cook to save her life, but she can top off your ramen with a fried egg” “Pros: loving and down to earth, great with kids. Cons: doesn’t know her own strength, hates mushrooms, has a quirky laugh”

“You know what? I’ll swipe right. You’ll get more matches if you do,” Seokjin suggests with a determined nod.

Jeongguk stares at his informant in disbelief, jaw slack. There’s no way this stupid app is going to land him a wife by the end of the month.

“What do you think about this guy?”

“Hard pass. I mean, look at his photos. His whole personality is about working out.”

“Okay, then what about this one?”

“Nah, he looks too stuck-up. I don’t think he can take a joke.”

“How about her? She’s pretty, right?”

“She doesn’t even have a bio! What if she’s a catfish?”

From the way your coworkers appraise these people, they act as if they’re the ones looking for a partner. Because as a matter of fact, it’s your phone in their hand, swiping away on your dating app.

It doesn’t matter if there are library books that need to be stowed away or paperwork to be filed. They pay no mind to the clock indicating that there’s 30 minutes left in the work day because finding you a significant other seems to be their only priority.

“Sujin, stop being so picky. At this rate, y/n isn’t going to get a date if you swipe left on everyone,” Yumi whines.

“Why did you make a profile for me anyways? I don’t need to be in a relationship.” The sound of your widely unpopular opinion makes the two girls look up with big, round eyes.

“Aren’t you ever lonely?” There’s a hint of pity that lingers in Yumi’s voice.

You find it quite offensive that she would think that. As much as you’d like to keep your job, you would also like to rip the rug out from beneath Yumi’s feet until she falls flat on her face. But the reality is, you really need this job. So all you do is shake your head and grit your teeth. “No, not really.”

“Life is soo much more romantic when you have someone to love.” Sujin’s unblinking eyes make you wonder if she’s being held hostage against her will. Is her boyfriend tapping into her phone, listening to all of her conversations?

“y/n, you’ve never been in a relationship before. Do you ever feel like you’re missing out on something?” There’s a pout that rests on Yumi’s lips. Her tone leaks with faux sympathy. “Hobi just got married, and Nari’s having a baby. We’re all grown up, and I don’t want you to feel left out, especially at my engagement party next weekend. It might bring out some… bitter feelings.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, reminding yourself that you should definitely not push Yumi down the stairs at the end of your shift. “I think I’ll be content on my own.”

“Here, look through the app for a little while. Maybe you’ll find someone that you like. Just give it a chance, okay?” Sujin hands the phone back to you. “You should really think about it. San tells me he’s been worried about you.”

Your expression falls upon hearing your younger brother’s name. Of all people, San should know that you value nothing more than your independence.

“He just wants you to be happy ー for someone to take care of you.”

Some part of you believes that Sujin is projecting her opinions and throwing your brother under the bus. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you assure her. “I can be happy on my own.”

Nowadays, many people come to believe that a wedding ring is the solution to everyone’s misfortune. Supposedly, it’ll keep you safe from all things cruel in this world. They don’t seem to realize that there are problems that run much deeper than being single. It’s as if something must be inherently wrong with you if you’ve never had a partner, let alone a first kiss.

You have to admit that sometimes, their words can hurt like knives. It’s damaging to your self-esteem if you really think about it. Because surely, everyone wants to be loved and to be desired ー to be chosen. How nice would it be to lie in bed, held and comforted by something other than the warmth of your own body?

If you were to have a relationship, perhaps you could go to bookstores together and read for hours on end. The two of you could laugh and sing at the top of your lungs, dancing like fools in the dim light of the bathroom with toothbrushes tucked between molars. You could listen to ballads on the radio and finally resonate with the lyrics, plastering a goofy, lovestruck smile on your face. If you were in love, you could share childhood memories, and even the mundane details would be tucked away for safekeeping. You’d know one another's biggest fears and greatest vulnerabilities. Even when you reveal the ugliest parts of yourself, they would choose you over and over again.

If there was just one person to run their fingers across all of your curves, your dips, your scars, only to tell you that you are still the object of their affection, then perhaps you would give love a chance.

But having thought about love your entire life, and never yet to experience it, you’re certain that you’re better off on your own. Ever since you were a little kid, it’s always been you, yourself, and your grief. You’ve harbored yourself in your own bones for decades, so who knows you better than you know yourself ー truly and completely unfiltered? With your mind and wit so sharp, who will find you lovable when they discover there’s a blade where your heart is?

If you were to find a partner, there is simply no way that you can continue the life that you have. You could never return to them at the end of the night, bloodied and bruised, with no questions asked. Surely, it’s not an easy pill to swallow when you tell them that you're an assassin. There’s no sugar coating that.

Much like being a daycare teacher, being an assassin is just another job. You started living this secret identity because it earned enough money to take care of your younger brother after your parents had passed away. It put food on the table and cash toward your bills. Money would roll into your bank account by the thousands. At 18 years old, that type of money was unfathomable. But now that San is old enough to take care of himself, there’s really no need to continue this lifestyle.

Yet you pursue the chase because there’s a certain thrill that comes from seeking justice and vigilance. These monsters no longer hide beneath your brother’s bed. Instead, they lurk between the shadows ー among the alleyways and abandoned parts of town. They prey on those who are weak and exploit them for all that they are.

If the law enforcement team is never going to uphold their end of the social contract, you have to be the one to act first and eliminate them. So with every job completed, you can be certain that the world is safer one hit at a time.

But to continue being an assassin, you have to keep this secret under wraps. You’ll be forced to hide under a life of normalcy, as nothing more than a naive and innocent daycare teacher at the local library ー a background character in the story of others. In all honesty, you prefer to keep your secrets tucked away. Because to be loved is to be known, and you simply cannot let that happen.

Some people aren’t made for romance, and maybe you’re one of them. Nobody shall ever hold your heart in their hands without pricking their own flesh.

Despite all that is said and done, some part of you thinks that there’s no harm in checking out the unpromising dating app. Curiosity gets the best of you as you mindlessly swipe through all of the profiles. However, everyone you’ve come across is either too shallow, too arrogant, or too boring.

A defeated sigh slips past your lips until you come across a certain profile. You look closer at the photos, inspecting each one with great care. There are only so many pictures: one of him and his dog, a second one of him shoving a Chicago deep dish down his throat, and another with a young child. Tattoos litter across his sun-kissed skin, and piercings scatter his handsome face ー beautiful in the most unorthodox ways.

His bio reads: “To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only).”

Have you seen this man before? Could it be… him?

The longer that you stare at his profile, the more concerned you become. At this rate, you’ve created an entire fantasy about a relationship with this stranger, and now you’re planning the dinner menu for your wedding. But there’s no way that you’d actually consider swiping right and messaging him, right? You don’t even want a boyfriend! This man could be joking for all you know.

When the clock strikes the hour, a chime resounds through the air. You shake your head, finally coming to your senses. You slip your device into your pocket, forgetting about the man who lives in your phone.

Jeongguk. His name is Jeongguk.

“Appaaa!” There’s a piercing cry that slices through the air as the little girl begs for her father’s affection. From behind the bookshelves, the curious librarian pokes her head between the gaps to catch a glimpse of the commotion.

“Don’t let go, please, please, pleeease!” The young child slips her tiny hand into her father’s, shaking it back and forth with a sense of urgency.

Jeongguk stands frozen in place. The apples of his cheeks darken into a rosy hue. It’s a little embarrassing to be that parent ー the one who can’t control his child’s outbursts in the middle of a public space, let alone a library, an academic sanctuary that promises peace and quiet.

With a heavy, exhausted sigh, Jeongguk crouches down to meet his daughter’s innocent expression. “Minny, I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. I ask that you give me ten minutes, okay?” His voice is firm and assertive. It’s a little rough around the edges, but it can’t be helped. He speaks in a way that commands attention from the room. This is the only way he knows how to demand respect from his subordinates.

“I just need to pick up a few things. We can go home afterwards, so be a good girl until then,” Jeongguk bargains. “You can go to the playroom, and the nice librarian will take care of you.”

Minji squeezes her tiny hands into fists, and she dies on the inside. Tears form in the corner of her eyes. Even the slightest change in her father’s tone makes her believe that she’s done something wrong. Her worst nightmare flashes before her eyes.

Would her father abandon if she were to misbehave? Or worse, would he dare to return her to the orphanage she was adopted from? What if her biggest fear comes to fruition? After all, it’s not uncommon for parents to realize far too late that kids are too difficult to handle. Then, they’re left hoping and praying for some kind of return policy for their own flesh and blood.

Minji’s eyes become glossy at the thought of it, unlocking a hidden memory from the past, but she refuses to let herself falter underneath his piercing stare. Yet no matter how hard she tries to keep the tears at bay, her emotions get the best of her, and her resolve crumbles into smithereens. After all, she’s only five years old.

It appears that the authoritative approach only works in the combat room, but perhaps not with a five year old girl. So Jeongguk lowers his defenses and drops to his knees. He wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, and she sniffles even harder when he comforts her.

There’s something about the little girl’s demeanor that reminds Jeongguk of himself when he was younger. Perhaps it’s the need for her father’s approval ー the desire to please and put others above herself. Maybe it’s her tenacity for standing tall and strong despite the dull ache in her tender heart.

“You can let it all out,” he reaffirms. A beat of silence passes by while he caresses her cheek, allowing the tears to fall. “You ’kay now?”

Minji reluctantly agrees with the slow nod of her head, but she avoids her father’s strong gaze, staring down at her shoes, sullen. When the warmth of her father’s hand disappears, another sniffle racks through her body.

Normally, Minji is never one to throw a tantrum, but what does Jeongguk know? Just when he thought he had a hang of the whole “parenting” thing, he’s thrown into a loop. In spite of Jeongguk’s confident demeanor, he genuinely doesn’t know the first thing about raising a child, let alone a daughter.

In his past ten years of being an undercover spy, he has diffused nuclear bombs and hacked into government files, but nothing has ever prepared him for being a single parent. Yet as a man and a father, he needs to do better. He needs to be better. The least he can do is try.

Jeongguk raises a hand between their bodies, extending his pinky for her to interlock, pledging his vow. “I’ll be back for you in ten minutes, I swear.” He reassures his daughter before planting a kiss on the crown of her head. He crosses his fingers, silently praying that she won’t cry again.

A dribble of snot falls from Minji’s nose. Her eyelashes are soaked. A dramatic hiccup heaves through her tiny, five-year old body.

Jeongguk can feel the venomous judgment of everyone around him. They must think that he’s utterly unfit to be a father, and they would be right.

They would wonder: What kind of child causes a scene in public, screaming, crying, and begging her father not to abandon her? How can he send her to the playroom where there’s nothing but disgusting germs and snotty kids? Is he seriously going to hand off his responsibilities to a total stranger in an underfunded public institution?

They can easily write Jeongguk off as a villain ー a big, scary man with piercings and tattoos. They could hurl accusations at him with no regard as to where they land. All it takes is a quick glance and a first impression (a false one at that). Obviously, they would think he’s someone who’s not built for child rearing because of the slits in his eyebrows and the gel in his hair. There must not be a gentle bone that resides in his big, burly body, but for that, they would be wrong.

The worst part about this whole “father” situation is not necessarily the judgment of others. He is familiar with scrutiny, and he knows it all too well. Rather, it’s that Jeongguk was never particularly fond of having children of his own. Some people are not cut out for fatherhood, and that’s simply the truth of the matter. But that doesn’t mean he won't do his best. He can’t let Minji down. He won’t.

As if Minji could read his thoughts, she raises her arms, begging to be picked up. Her sniffles have long died down.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath before caving into her wishes and hooking an arm around her knees. Minji’s grimy, little hands cling around his neck, and an inaudible, celebratory noise escapes from her lips.

Minji nuzzles her head beneath her father’s chin. She chatters about the incomprehensible things that only five year olds would understand. She is an enigma beyond her father’s own understanding, but he is determined to learn the ins and outs of this child no matter what it takes, even if it kills him.

After Jeongguk had finally dropped Minji off at the library’s playroom, he peruses the non-fiction shelves in search of answers.

How the hell is he going to raise a child?

He thumbs through all of the top-rated parenting books available, skimming through the blurbs, trying to absorb enough information to pass judgment on them. Because if he’s going to follow parenting advice from someone else, they better be successful in their trials. Jeongguk doesn’t want to be the one to fuck up his own child’s brain chemistry.

There’s a sudden tap on his shoulder that helps Jeongguk to escape from the existential dread of fatherhood.

“Excuse me, sir.” A soft voice sounds from behind him. Your breath catches onto the nape of his neck.

“How did this woman sneak up on me without me noticing? Maybe I’m losing my touch.” Jeongguk wonders, shocked by his carelessness. Because from behind, he didn’t hear the fall of a single footstep. The air was still and undisturbed until he felt your presence a moment too late. Normally, he would have surveilled everyone within a mile radius before they could even think about approaching him. But you managed to do it so effortlessly. He’s never met a woman so stealthy.

“I think this belongs to you.” Your voice interrupts his stream of consciousness.

The man before you turns around, and surely, he is a sight for sore eyes 一 a little intimidating to say the least. There’s a silver ring that protrudes from his bottom lip, contrasting against the subtle pink. Even more metal resides against the surface of his skin, a piercing on either side of his eyebrow. There’s a scar that sits on his cheekbone, and you can’t help but wonder how it got there.

You’ve only ever admired this stranger from afar. Most days, he never fails to browse the children’s manhwa section with a talkative child latched onto his leg. Up close, he looks like a tough guy, but the moment he sees his adorable daughter clinging onto your dress, the hard look in his eyes softens. A dimple carves itself into the curve of his cheek.

“Who do we have here?” His typical inflection changes into something slightly more playful. But he uses it to mask his exhausted state.

“Appa, appa! Miss y/l/n is so pretty, don’t you think?” Minji says enthusiastically.

A flame ignites beneath the surface of Jeongguk’s skin. He grows flustered under the little girl’s stare.

Your eyes widen. You’ve never been considered “pretty” by conventional standards. It’s not often that you hear those words, if ever, really.

“Minji, everyone has their own opinions, but you shouldn’t push your beliefs onto someone else,” you begin as a form of damage control. “I’m so sorry, but she ran up to me, saying she lost her father. She seemed so distressed, and I thought she was going to burst into tears if she couldn’t find you.”

Jeon Jeongguk has never known peace before. Minji is just as sneaky and conniving as her father; she’s a filthy liar just like him.

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t apologize. Her attachment issues have grown by the day,” Jeongguk replies, shaking his head. He wears a bashful smile, cheeks tinged with pink. “Minny, do you remember what I taught you?” He crouches down to pick his daughter up by the waist, squeezing her sides.

“Don’t sleep with wet hair otherwise I might get hippo-pot-a-therm-ia?” Minji recalls, butchering the pronunciation.

Jeongguk bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. “No, the other thing.”

“Minny doesn’t have to eat anything that she doesn’t want to?”

“I never said that.” A look of disapproval crosses her father’s features.

“Drawing mustaches on sleepy people is wrong unless it’s Seokjin samchon?”

He scrunches his nose, nodding his head from side to side as though he’s contemplating. “Well… yes, but no. Try again. The thing about beauty.”

“Oh! Beauty is something that comes from the inside!” Minji’s eyes light up upon recognition.

“Exactly, it comes from inside.” Jeongguk reminds her. He presses his pointer finger against Minji’s sternum for emphasis. Upon his touch, a sweet giggle falls from her lips.

“But you do think it’s true, don’t you?” Minji asks once again, persistent. “Miss y/l/n is really pretty.”

The blush on his cheeks grow a shade darker. “Minny, of course I think she’s pretty. I thought we talked about this.” Although he lowers his voice like it’s a secret, you can still hear every single word.

Minji giggles to herself, hiding her face behind her hands.

Jeongguk has always known your face, but never your name. “Miss y/l/n, right?”

It sounds odd to hear your title from a grown man, but you laugh it off with a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what the kids at the daycare call me. It’s just y/n though.”

Jeongguk readjusts his daughter in his arms before reaching for a handshake. “I’m just Jeongguk.” It doesn’t strike how little his name means to him. Of course it’s just an alias for the sake of the mission. He picked it on a whim, but it suits him more than he had thought. Jeon Jeongguk, pillar of the nation. The lie tumbles out of his lips so naturally, and he doesn't have to think twice.

His eyes lower into crescent moons as the corner of his lips curve into a smile, something akin to fondness. A shallow dimple finds its way onto his cheeks.

Dammit. He’s cute.

You reach forward, cupping your hand around his in a reverent greeting. He holds you gently as if there’s a butterfly that had landed on the tip of his fingers. It contrasts against your strong grip.

Observant as ever, Jeongguk notices that there’s no sign of a ring on your hand. He digs through the arsenal of intel that’s locked up inside his brain. Thanks to Seokjin’s sticky fingers, he managed to spend an entire weekend studying the most recent census information, getting to know the profiles of everyone in the city (just in case). There has to be some information about you stored in his head.

“y/n… Where did I see that name before?” He thinks to himself, mentally sifting through all the files he’s read. “Ah, I remember now. File #901: y/l/n, y/n. Never married, never divorced. Orphaned at the age of eighteen. She has one younger brother. Both of them have clean records ー never been in trouble with the police, never even received a speeding ticket.”

“Jeongguk…” you murmur his name as if you’re testing the waters. “I know. I’ve seen you around before.”

Minji might have accidentally let it slip that he’s the man who's been her appa ‘for a very long time.’ She never seemed to mention that she’s adopted. Instead, she continues to describe her father as someone super handsome and very single.

“Really?” Although he’s noticed you plenty of times before, he’s surprised that you recognize him. Jeongguk doesn’t like drawing attention. He supposes that lately, it’s been difficult when his daughter attracts a lot of eyes.

“Most of the time, you wander through the aisles, half-dead like a zombie, with a cup of coffee in your hand.” You lean forward, speaking in a hushed tone. “You really aren’t allowed to bring drinks into the library, but my coworkers let it slide because they think you’re handsome.”

Perhaps you’ve overshared because Jeongguk stares at you blankly, taken aback by the news.

“Here’s another secret.” You beckon him closer once again, speaking barely above a whisper. “You should be careful about reading parenting books. You’ll end up stressed about what to do if it doesn’t work, and you’ll feel like a failure by the end of it.”

His eyes widen in surprise. He had hoped that the parenting books would put an end to his sleepless nights. “What do you think I should do then? I don’t know how to deal with this monster right here.” He ruffles Minji’s hair in endearment.

“Hey!” Minji shouts in defense of herself.

“That’s not to say you shouldn’t read any parenting books. It’s just trial and error,” you shrug. “As much as you don’t want to hear it, there’s really no right answer.”

Jeongguk drops his shoulders, slightly disappointed. The defeated look on his face is a feeling you can sympathize with.

“But if it helps, I think it’s important that children need a little bit of softness every now and then, especially because the world is so cruel.” You flash him a gentle smile, urging him to lighten up on his daughter. He needs to stop pretending that raising a child is anything like the military or the spy academy.

Upon hearing your conversation, there’s a mischievous sparkle that appears in Minji’s eyes. “Miss y/l/n, do you wanna be my eomma?”

You stare blankly at her, blinking as though you are processing her question. The words die on your tongue, yet you cock your head to the side, meeting the little girl’s gaze. “Y- your eomma?” you reiterate, startled.

“Pleaseee? I’m so lonely with no eomma,” Minji pouts, melodramatic as ever. She puts her hand on her forehead as if she’s feigning an illness.

“Jeongguk, do you happen to be looking for a wife?”

“Is this your way of asking me out?” He leans forward, inclined to hear your proposal.

You wonder if this is a bad time to mention his Tinder profile. It could be a little awkward knowing that you’ve also made an account on that wretched app. There’s nothing inherently embarrassing about wanting to find love through modern dating, but why is it so hard to admit it?

You weigh your options in your head, but Jeongguk beats you to it.

“Because if you did 一 ya’ know 一 ask me out, I would have said-” His words are cut short.

“You know what? I’m sorry if I was being too forward-” Mentally, you want to smack yourself on the head.

Jeongguk didn’t mention anything about a girlfriend, let alone a wife. He has no idea that you’ve seen his Tinder before. You never even swiped. You never matched.

After you found his profile, you tucked your phone away and refused to open the app again. The blissful state of not knowing is better than playing the waiting game. Will he swipe, will he not? Will he message you and jumpstart some epic romance?

You decide to tell him the truth and swallow your pride before coming across as a complete weirdo wrapped up in her delusions.

“It’s just that… the other day, my friends made a dating profile for me because they’re worried I’ll be single for the rest of my life. I came across your account, and I thought you looked familiar. So I just wanted to know if you’re actually looking for a wife because I swear, I’ll do it.”

Jeongguk has never been this close to making a breakthrough, and he thinks he’s half in love with you. “Are you being serious?” he wonders as a precaution. “Don’t lie to me because I really need this to be a dream come true right now.”

His daughter reaches forward to pinch his cheeks. Jeongguk winces at the pain, and he’s certain that this moment is real.

“Do you want me to get down on one knee?” Your face is devoid of any banter, eyes fixed on Jeongguk as if you’re genuinely offering yourself to him. “Why do you need a wife? Tax money? Green card? Ex who won’t leave you alone?”

“It’s complicated,” Jeongguk begins.

“Trust me, I know it's complicated when I see it.” There’s a challenging look in your eyes, urging him to continue.

“Well, the other day, Minny passed the entrance exam for Hwa Yang Academy. Now, the board has to conduct an interview with the family, but they said they would want both parents to be there.”

“You can’t tell them that you’re a single father?”

“I think it’ll hurt her chances of getting accepted,” he explains. “I want my daughter to attend a good school. Her late mother would have wanted the same thing for her.”

“Appa said lying is wrong, but he’s so good at it,” Minji thinks to herself.

“Do you really think that I’m fit for the role?” You’ve never really had a penchant for acting or playing pretend. Lying, on the other hand, that is your strong suit.

“I don’t mean to be too forward, but I think you’re perfect.” Jeongguk speaks his truth without any hesitation. He looks at you with such sweet and delicate eyes. “You seem to be great with children, and Minny adores you already.”

You eye him as if you’re considering his offer, but you’ve already made up your mind. “I’ll do it, but only if you do a favor for me too. Are you free next weekend?”

“Next weekend?” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. It’s starting to make sense why you agreed to do this in the first place. You need something in exchange, quid pro quo.

“My friends are throwing an engagement party. They’re worried about me all the time because I’m single, but I thought I would lay it to rest if I told them I finally had a boyfriend, or at least someone I’m talking to.” Your speech gets faster and faster with every word that comes out of your mouth. “I know it sounds crazy, Iー”

“I’ll do it.”

You stare blankly at him, unsure if you heard correctly, but a smile continues to creep onto the corners of your lips. “You will?”

Jeongguk reaches forward, gently taking your hand in his. “It would be an honor to be your boyfriend,” he says, even if it’s just pretend. “And an even bigger honor to be your husband.”

“y/n!”

You don’t hear your name being called relentlessly until your co-workers are shouting for your attention. Their words fall upon deaf ears.

As usual, they had been gossiping about their boyfriends and their weekend plans. You checked out of the conversation the moment Yumi opened her mouth and uttered her fiancé’s name, resisting the urge to gag.

You look up from your lap, slightly too distracted. There’s a small, maroon stain and a rip in the skirt of your dress. It’s not easy keeping your clothes in pristine condition when you’re constantly running toward danger. You’re lost in thought, wondering how much the tailor shop will charge you for sewing it back together.

“What are you doing this weekend? There’s a new episode of that drama you like, right? Are you going to order delivery again?” Yumi assumes. “You know, you should step outside from time to time. Maybe you’ll find a nice person to date if Tinder doesn’t pan out.”

“Actually, I have plans after work,” you announce before returning to inspect the damage on your dress.

“With who? Did you meet someone on the app?” The cadence of Sujin’s voice is airy, shocked in disbelief.

“I’m meeting up with some guy.” You try not to make it a big deal, but these girls always blow it out of proportion. “I didn’t meet him from the app though.”

“You’re seeing someone? Who?! You can’t just drop the news and expect us not to ask for the details!” Sujin shouts.

“He was at the library the other day, and he asked me out. He’s the one with the tattoos ー y’all would recognize him if you saw him,” you explain. “Minji is his daughter.”

“The guy with the coffee?” Everyone collectively gasps upon connecting the dots. “Him? How did you manage to pull that?!”

Ouch. That hurts.

“I would dump my fiancé in a heartbeat if the coffee guy could blow my back out,” Yumi confesses.

How could she be so shallow? She was just talking about how much she loved her fiancé. Is he really that disposable? Besides, is Jeongguk nothing more than the coffee guy? A pretty face who’s made for a one night stand? You’re starting to think that people don’t actually value their relationships. They just want a partner for the sake of having one.

There’s a sudden chime that resounds through the air, pulling you out of your thoughts. The service bell at the front desk had been struck. It’s odd considering most people exited the library by now, knowing that it closes in ten minutes.

You all poke your head through the doorway to catch a glimpse of the patron. Their eyes widen in surprise when they see the coffee guy standing at the front desk. He stands tall and proud with a military stance, a head above everyone else. There’s a bouquet of pink camellias resting in his hand in place of his typical americano.

“Jeongguk? I thought we were meeting at the cafe.” Perhaps you remembered the details of the conversation wrong.

When you speak his name out loud, all the girls shift their gaze to one another. Could it really be true that you’re seeing a man?

“I thought it would be nice if I could surprise you, and we’d walk there together.” He flashes a smile that sends an arrow straight through the heart (and through those of your coworkers). For a second, you think that Yumi might just faint.

He’s handsome as ever, just as you recall. But today, there’s something that’s slightly out of place. There’s a bandage that rests on the bridge of his nose. It’s pink with Sanrio characters plastered all over it ー Hello Kitty and My Melody. There’s something about it that makes him even more endearing.

You try to stifle a giggle as you shoot him an apology. “Sorry, can you hang around for a few more minutes? I have some things to do before closing.”

“Take your time, angel.” Jeongguk says. Crinkles begin to form at the corner of his eyes as the curve of his lips overtake him.

You have to admit that the pet name made your heart flutter. He plays into the role of a sweet boyfriend pretty accurately. It’s all part of the act.

Sujin closes the door to the office. The girls break into squeals. They playfully hit your shoulder in disbelief, elbowing your sides. “I can’t believe it! y/n is going out with a man?!”

“And he’s hot!”

You shake your head before returning to your work station, ignoring their cheers. But you can’t help the subtle smile that reaches your lips. Maybe the girls will finally leave you the fuck alone.

“I’m so sorry for the wait.” You apologize as you approach Jeongguk, looking like a disheveled mess after an 8 hour shift. Your blouse is slightly wrinkled, and you’re certain there’s residue left behind from all the marker stains the kids had carelessly drawn on you. Your arm is full of stickers, and you’ll have to remember to peel them off later.

In the daycare, Jeongguk is propped on top of a bean bag chair that is much too small for his body. There’s a manhwa that rests in his lap. It’s the one his daughter can’t stop talking about.

“I got here ten minutes early anyways.” He places the book on the table before clambering to his feet. “Oh yeah, and these are for you.” He passes the bouquet of camellias.

You raise your hands, not really sure how to accept the gift. You’re not the type of girl to receive flowers, love poems, or pretty things. Nobody has ever pursued you in that way. All you ever receive are cursory glances and awkward smiles, but never anything as beautiful as this.

He inches the flowers a little closer to you, urging you to take it.

You pull the bouquet to your nose, taking a whiff of the sweet scent. “These are really pretty. Thank you for that.” You motion for him to wait just a moment longer as you place the flowers into a vase.

Through the porthole of the office door, you can see the girls squeal and jump around in unison.

“Are you ready? Should we head out?” Jeongguk’s lips curl into a boyish smile.

You nod, sharply turning your heels in an attempt to hide the fluster of your face. Before you could take a step forward, you’re pulled to a halt. There’s a tug on your arm that spins you around. Jeongguk’s fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you close.

“Wait one sec,” his breath fans across your face. “You have some chalk on your cheek. Can I-?” He raises his hand, tentatively learning forward.

Heat rushes to the surface of your skin, yet you nod your head, giving into his request. “Is this part of the act?” you wonder out loud, low enough for Jeongguk to hear.

“Only if you want it to be.” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine.

As he leans forward to wipe the dust off your cheek, your throat dries. You freeze, attempting to avoid his gaze. You’re not certain whether you’ll explode upon gazing into his dark brown eyes.

Instead, you keep your sight locked straight ahead. It’s a terrible idea considering his strong chest is right in front of you. The top two buttons of his white collared shirt are undone, and the space between his pecs are exposed, a necklace dangling in between. There’s a chance that you might die staring at it, so you accept the risk of embarrassing yourself and glance at his visage instead.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Jeongguk says, dusting off the chalk.

A wave of butterflies swarm in the pit of your stomach, and your mind goes blank. You have no idea how to respond to such a compliment, and you’re unable to when your throat constricts. Your body warms, hyper aware of his palm on your cheek and the one wrapped around your wrist. Your one free hand that is not occupied by his clasp shoots up, hovering over the bandage plastered on his nose.

“What happened here?” The words splutter out of your mouth, trying to say something. Anything. Perhaps your anxiety would be less noticeable if you could just act natural ー If you could stop standing there without a single thought in your head.

“Bumped into a wall,” Jeongguk chuckles. It’s a blatant lie. He could never be this clumsy. In actuality, he had failed to duck during a sparring match with another spy at the agency. Fuck Kim Mingyu and his stupidly beefy arms. “Minny picked the bandage for me.”

“You mean you didn’t choose to wear the Hello Kitty? I think it suits you.” As soon as you graze the bridge of his nose, his laughter turns into a dramatic groan. Soft murmurs of ‘ow, ow’ fall from his lips.

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry!” You apologize.

His other hand gently grasps your palm, pulling it away from his sprained injury. Maybe your dating profile was right when it mentioned you don’t know your own strength.

“Don’t worry, let’s just hope that Minny is okay,” Jeongguk remarks. “She insisted on wearing a matching bandaid because ‘if appa’s hurt, then Minny’s hurt.’ Kind of like a voodoo doll.”

Subconsciously, the thought of Minny wearing a matching bandage despite being perfectly fine forces your lips into a smile.

“Should we head out now?” Jeongguk leans closer, voice barely above a whisper. “Can I hold your hand? Give your friends a real show to watch?” It’s as if your hand wasn’t already in his.

You nod your head, suddenly remembering that this is all an act. You’re reminded of the girls crowded around the office door, peeking through the small window to catch a glimpse of the action.

Jeongguk’s hand glides down from your palm and between your fingers, lacing them together. A breath hitches in your throat, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. You can hear the high pitched screams from behind when the girls are convinced you’ve stepped far away enough. But it isn't as loud as the sound of your heart beating out of your chest.

The two of you make your way to the cafe, walking side by side, hand-in-hand, occasionally bumping shoulders when you walk a little too close.

“How was your day? I realized I never asked you what you do for work, and I don’t really know much about you in general,” you chuckle, slightly embarrassed. “I thought we would at least have our first kiss by now if we were married.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in your tone, one that Jeongguk easily recognizes because his informant, Seokjin, is nothing but shits and giggles.

“We would have done more than kissing, but we can start slow.” The corners of his lips curl into a playful grin. His words make you freeze, but it doesn’t seem to faze him.

With your hands linked together, Jeongguk is pulled back by your halted movements. He turns to face you, displaying his pretty eye-smile. “I’m a journalist,” he says. “I write investigative articles when they don’t ask me to cover silly politics.”

Although it’s not completely true, it’s not totally false at the same time. He writes exposé articles based on the intel he uncovers from his spy missions. The articles that he writes are written under an anonymous name, obviously so he can’t be tracked for exposing highly classified information. Nobody should ever know that he’s digging into the lives of corrupt politicians. Jeongguk might never see the light of day if word gets out.

“My routine is pretty consistent,” he explains. “I did some research for my article, wrote a few thousand words in my drafts before deciding to scrap the entirety of it, and I picked up Minny from kindergarten. I asked my friend to babysit her while I’m away tonight.”

Jeongguk wants to scrub his tongue after admitting that Seokjin is his “friend.”

“What about you? How’s your life at the library?” Jeongguk asks.

You describe the events that spiraled today as the two of you head inside the coffee shop and place your orders. “Well, the girls seemed convinced that we’re on a date,” you chuckle.

Jeongguk gasps. His hand clenches against his chest as if he’s wounded by your words. “You mean to tell me this isn’t a date? I thought we had something special.” He feigns exasperation. “You are my wife, after all, aren’t you?”

You don’t care to admit how amusing it is to hear the word wife coming from him. Despite the smile that plays on your lips, you shake your head no.

“This isn’t a real date,” you explain in denial. Nobody has ever asked you out, and you’ll be damned if the first time is just pretend. “But I guess this is good practice, especially when the stakes are higher for the interview.”

“Hmm… practice.” A crinkle forms between Jeongguk’s brows, lost in thought.

“I have to admit that I don’t have a lot of experience with dating, and that’s why we have to practice.” You shake your head, flustered. “Actually, I’ve never even been in a relationship.”

“Why’s that?” He asks the age-old question.

“I’m not really the type that people fall for.” You tuck your head between your shoulders, offering a shrug. “I’m quiet ー Not really good with people. I’m a bit of a late bloomer. I spent a lot of my youth taking care of my younger brother.” That’s only the jist of it. You don’t bother getting into the nitty gritty details. Being a full-time assassin isn’t necessarily “first-date appropriate” conversation.

“How many partners have you had?” You bounce back, diverting the attention away from you.

“Just one, my wife who passed. We had been together since we were in high school.” The lie seeps through his teeth so easily. It’s terrifying. But the less you know, the better.

The thought of being Jeongguk’s first “girlfriend” since the passing of his wife makes you incredibly nervous. Upon seeing the sullen avoidance in his eyes, you don’t bring it up again. Instead, you try to lighten the mood.

The two of you fall into a routine of volleying questions back and forth. If you’re planning to convince everyone that you’re husband and wife, you’re going to have to know more than just one another’s (supposed) names and (supposed) professions.

You start with the easy stuff. “Where did you grow up?”

“Busan. I miss the sound of the ocean, but I don’t mind the city as long as Minny goes to the best school in the country. What about you?”

“I grew up in a town so small you wouldn’t be able to find it on the map, but it’s not far from the capital.”

“Cryptic, I like it.” A grin forms onto the corners of lips before he takes a sip of his coffee.

Over the next hour, you learn that Jeongguk, as robust and intimidating as he looks, is warm and gentle. His favorite thing about being a father is having someone to love and protect. To him, Minji is a bundle of joy who makes his day brighter despite the hurdles that come with being a parent. He would do anything in the world to give his child the life he never quite had.

Likewise, having lost his parents at a young age, he learned to lead a fulfilling life all on his own. Instead of letting it bog him down, he clings onto the simple things for respite, searching for happiness in every corner of the universe.

He loves the rain and how it fleetingly smells like the warm and muggy summers of his hometown. Although he doesn’t experience the monsoon season quite like he used to, he loves to watch Minji splash around in her yellow rain boots. His favorite time of day is golden hour, especially when the fluffy white clouds are tinted with orange hues, reminding him of his first dog, Gureum.

Jeongguk has a slight addiction to black coffee, even if it makes his stomach hurt on the odd occasions (and you suggest he tries tea instead). He likes his eggs scrambled, and he prefers waffles over pancakes. He has plenty of awful habits like singing karaoke at four in the morning followed by cooking a pot of instant ramen to satiate his brutal cravings (yes, his food preferences are vital to your understanding of who Jeongguk is as a person, down to his core).

He tells you about his trip to Chicago some months ago where he definitely deepthroated a deep dish pizza after being dared by Seokjin. As much as he loved traveling, he was easily home-sick and desperately missing his fix of samgyeopsal. In fact, he tells you he would love to invite you over one day so he can make you a meal. And thank God for that because you are not handy in the kitchen whatsoever.

You learn that not necessarily all of his tattoos have meaning. The tiger is an emblem of his country while the tiger lily is his birth flower, and it is a silent, desperate plea to be loved. There’s a silly emoji on his middle finger just because he thinks it’s funny. He hates having to cover it up when he goes to work (tattoos may not have been the smartest idea knowing that he has to keep his identity a secret, but the damage is already done), and he’s certain that everybody judges him for the ink on his arms.

“As long as you like your tattoos, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” You offer him a warm smile as though nothing could ever hurt him. God, how he wishes that was true.

For some reason, Jeongguk doesn’t know how to react to your words. He’s only ever been told to cover up his skin as if he has something to be ashamed of.

In exchange for his stories, you trade Jeongguk pieces of your life. How your favorite memory from youth was when you had taken the city bus an hour and a half down to the beach with your brother, San, where you’d build sand castles on the brink of collapse. Sometimes, the smell of salt air and the longing for August still lingers to this day.

You tell him about your attempt at joining the knitting club so you could make cute sweaters and vests. They were never perfect. But at least they kept your brother warm during the winters. Besides, you had fun playing dress-up with him. Jeongguk finds that perhaps the boldest thing you’ve ever done is bleach your hair strawberry blonde, only for it to turn out orange.

His laughter blooms through his chest when you tell him about the time you almost set the microwave on fire. Your mom never told you that aluminum foil doesn’t belong in there, and you had to learn that the hard way. That’s probably why you should never set foot in the kitchen again. Nevertheless, you made mistake after mistake just so that San could have food on the table everyday after school. At least you’ve perfected the art of cutting fruit at this point ー no cooking skills required.

Although the two of you talk for what seems like hours, you can’t help but think there’s so much more to this man, and he’s unwilling to share. It doesn’t necessarily bother you because you, too, have secrets of your own. You can’t expect him to reveal everything about his life, even if he never does.

It’s well into the evening when Jeongguk walks you home. The path is quiet. It’s illuminated by the dim light of the street lamps. It feels like a scene from a movie you’ve once watched ー the origin of all your teenage fantasies. But this is real. You’re just a girl, standing in front of a boy, and that’s where it all begins.

“y/n?” The way he says your name brings you to a halt. His voice, although usually confident, is timid and uncertain. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We still have a lot to talk about.” He looks at you with stars in his eyes, although none of them belong to you, and they could never be yours.

Your lips press together in a tight line, nodding your head in affirmation. As you bid your goodbyes, you wonder if it would be inappropriate to give him a hug. After all, you’ve only just met the day prior, and this is nothing but pretend. Yet how will you ever grow accustomed to the touch of your husband?

Your arms remain crossed over your chest. You look down at your shoes, kicking a loose pebble at the front of your door, contemplating.

But he reaches for your hand, lightly grasping around your fingers. You jolt back as if he set your nerves aflame. Your gaze lifts toward his eyes, but it quickly lowers as Jeongguk descends down to one knee.

Your heart pounds against your chest, and you pray that he cannot hear it.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a proper ring…” He begins. “I hope you can accept this for now, and I swear I’ll get a diamond on your hand one day ー As big as you want.”

Jeongguk carefully pulls a small metal band from his pocket. It can easily be confused for the end piece of a keychain ー perhaps it’s something that his daughter had left behind in his coat, never to be remembered. But for Jeongguk, he knows perfectly well that it’s the pin from a grenade he had tossed the week prior on an escape mission. He slides the ring onto your finger, and although it is slightly too large, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I may not have been your first choice of a partner, and for all I know, I could have been dead last, but thank you for sticking by me. I swear I’ll take care of you. I’ll hold your heart with gentle hands, and I won’t ever let it break.”

After all, this is just pretend.

But for some reason, his voice sounds so earnest, and you almost believe him. To be frank, you never really cared about lavish weddings and seven carat diamonds. If you were to ever look for a companion, all you could ask for is an honest partner.

Too bad Jeon Jeongguk is anything but that.

Throughout the next week, you spend more and more time getting to know your new “boyfriend.” Because of this, you have to put your side hustle on pause and constantly decline assignments on your burner phone. You certainly wouldn’t want Jeongguk to overhear your plans to murder while he sits pretty beside you, waiting to hear about your day ー your hopes, your dreams, and anything else that’s on your mind. But it would be a shame if you cut your dates early, only to spend less than a second to put a bullet through your enemies’ heads.

You’d have much more fun with Jeongguk instead. Because he tends to plan the cutest surprise dates, and they’re so incredibly thoughtful. Sometimes, Minji would accompany your dates when Seokjin can’t babysit (he’s too busy trying to find his own baby mama so he can prove Minji wrong). Nevertheless, Minji adores the time that you spend together because it feels like you’re a real family.

The three of you would drive to the movies, play boardgames, and eat ice cream for dinner. Jeongguk had even taken you both to the annual carnival that you desperately wanted to check out. He wasn’t fond of going because those claw machines and arcade games are absolute scams! Yet you caught the smug grin on his face when he finally won a stuffed bunny after downing fifty bucks. He was just so addicted to the thrill of nearly winning: “I could have gotten that!”

During your dates, you would laugh for hours on end, but by the end of the night, Minji would fall asleep on her father’s shoulder. That’s usually your cue to head home. Sometimes, you think that he might kiss you goodnight, but he never does. His lips only ever brush your knuckles like the gentleman that he is.

…

True to his word, Jeongguk invites you over for dinner the following Friday.

When you arrive at his apartment, you are instantly the worst houseguest known to mankind. Your umbrella is dripping wet from the pouring rain, effectively ruining Jeongguk’s wooden floors. However, that’s not the problem that Jeongguk has with you. The problem is that you’re unable to stop laughing at Jeongguk’s attire.

Surely, your parents had taught you to be kind, especially to your hosts. Well, when Jeongguk swings the door open, revealing a frilly apron, something akin to what your grandmother would wear, you couldn’t help it! A picture of My Melody is stamped onto the chest, staring straight into your soul.

It isn’t lost on you ー the irony of a big, strong man, no doubt subjected to dress up in his daughter’s choice of clothing.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Jeongguk pouts, tilting his head like a puppy.

You stifle your giggle behind a tight lipped smile, but you’re so close to bursting at the seams. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

After placing your shoes at the door, Jeongguk leads you into his humble abode. He takes the bottle of chardonnay from your hands, thanking you for the gift, and places it onto the dining table.

“Dinner should be ready in an hour,” he informs you.

“I know I’m not very useful in the kitchen, but if you need help-”

Before you can even think about lifting a finger, Jeongguk is quick to suggest an alternative. “No, don't worry, you’re my guest. Just relax, okay? Minny is in the living room. You should spend time with her.”

In the adjacent room, Minji is crouched over her study material. Her worksheets spread across the coffee table. Each question covers a different subject: basic biology, political science, religion and ethics, foreign language, etc. You never quite realized how much pressure children face in the education system.

After all, you were never really concerned with grades. You never thought about applying to the top school in the nation. In fact, your grades had fallen down a slippery slope by the time you were in high school. Rather, all of your time was dedicated to earning money and supporting your family.

When you sit beside Minji, she beckons you closer before you can even greet her. “I’m dying. Help me,” she pleads with wide eyes. You look down to see her math homework ー fractions, Minji’s sworn enemy.

“Appa wants me to study, but he won’t give me the answers,” Minji whines.

You can’t help but chuckle. “Minny, you have to figure out the answers on your own if you want to do well.”

The sound of your advice makes her drop her head on the table with a soft thump.

“Here, let’s do a few questions together,” you suggest.

Try as you might, you only manage to complete half of the assignment. Minji huffs, slightly frustrated when she doesn’t understand the concept.

You pat her back, consoling the small child. “Once you eat dinner, you’ll have more brain energy. Maybe you just need a break.”

A lightbulb goes off above her head, and she springs to her feet. “Appa! Can I give eomma a tour of the house?”

You tilt your head, amused by the sound of Minji calling you her mother.

“That sounds like a great idea!” Jeongguk cranes his neck to peek at his devious daughter. “Just make sure you study again when you’re done.”

Minji takes her father’s approval as a cue to grab your hand in hers, showing you every corner of the house ー all of her drawings taped to the fridge, her favorite stuffed animals lined up at the end of the bed, and the sparkly clean toilet where she poops every morning. After describing everything in excruciating detail, you could have sworn that Minji would run out of words to say. But she never does.

“What’s behind that door?” You point to the end of the hall.

“That’s appa’s bedroom. He told me I should never go in there unless he gives me permission.”

You suppose it’s healthy to set boundaries between you and your child. It’s not like Jeongguk has distasteful art hanging on his walls, and it’s not likely that he’s hiding a dead body in there. He doesn’t seem to be the type to store skeletons in the closet. You, on the other hand, now that’s a different story. Perhaps Jeongguk just needs a little privacy at the end of every night.

Minji’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “Eomma! This is your room! Well, it’s a guest room, but appa says it’s basically yours if you ever want a place to stay.”

You step into the final room, glancing around the walls at a loss of words. Your eyes are drawn to the shelves. They’re brimming with so many novels. It’s like your own personal library. You could probably spend the entire day just browsing through each book.

As you slide open one of the drawers, you’re surprised to find an array of period products. There are also makeup wipes, an abundance of face masks, some sunscreen, and essential oils (apparently, women love that sort of stuff according to an article Jeongguk had bookmarked). There’s even a candle that’s labeled ‘ocean breeze.’

“Do you like it?” Minji looks up at you with wide, glimmering eyes as she uncaps the candle, shoving her entire nose against the wax with a hard whiff.

“I love it, Minny, thank you for the tour. I really appreciate it. You should get back to your studies. I’ll help your dad with dinner, but if you need my help, just call me, okay?”

Minji sniffles theatrically and drags her feet into the living room.

You head towards the kitchen to find Jeongguk slicing a daikon radish with military precision. There’s soft music playing in the background, accompanied by the pouring rain outside, occasionally interrupted by the soft huff of frustration when Jeongguk’s bangs cover his eyes. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms covered in tattoos.

Jeongguk finally looks up at you in the doorway. He flashes you a smile ー delighted, and very much enamored. “How was the tour?”

“Your home is so cozy. But I don’t know if I was supposed to look at the top secret file you forgot to put away.”

“I- WHAT?” He yelps. The shock on his face is quickly replaced with an acute pain. The knife had sliced through his palm upon one careless motion.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, ensuring that Minji won’t hear his foul language.

Jeongguk drops the radish onto the cutting board with a thud. He forces pressure onto the wound with the pad of his thumb to stop the bleeding. In actuality, he’s more concerned about the food than he is about his finger.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You rush over to his side, reaching for his wrist. “Let’s run it under cold water.”

The two of you waddle towards the small sink, attached by the hip.

“I was kidding about the secret files. I’m sorry about the cut.” You’re ridden with guilt, seeing that your mindless joke had cost Jeongguk his hand.

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize. It was my fault. I was the one holding the knife.”

You shake your head. “Don’t blame yourself either. It happens. I get cuts all the time.” If there’s ever a blade against your skin, it’s usually by the hands of your enemies. You, on the other hand, are a pro when it comes to handling knives.

Jeongguk shuts the faucet off, examining the cut. It’s shallow. You could hardly see it.

“I’ll grab a bandaid for you,” you offer, already sprinting down the hallway.

“They’re in the bathroom! Medicine cabinet!” Jeongguk shouts.

“I know! Minny gave me a tour of everything,” you shout back. You pluck the ointment and the familiar Hello Kitty bandages off the shelf before shuffling back to the kitchen. “Minny shared way too much information about the inventory of your medicine cabinet. Apparently, you have two morphine capsules left. You should get a refill on those.”

Jeongguk hums in recognition, and you wonder why he would need a painkiller as strong as morphine.

Taking Jeongguk’s hand in yours, you assess the cut and gently blow on the appendages with the purse of your lips. You place the pink bandage onto his hand, and out of habit, you give him a quick kiss on the booboo.

When you pull back, you’re absolutely mortified. You avoid his gaze, trying to hide your own humiliation. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. The kids at the daycare always ask for a kiss when they’re injured.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” A rosy hue dusts over Jeongguk’s cheeks. Why is he so shy when he’s usually the bold and courageous one? He’ll be sure to call Seokjin tonight to ask what this means ー to be so flustered and afflicted by your touch. Is his skin supposed to feel like it’s on fire?

With the look on his face, you’re not quite sure who’s more embarrassed. So you run towards the sink and nervously wash your hands, practically rubbing the skin raw.

“I’ll cut the radish for you.” You take his place by the cutting board.

When he asks if you’re sure, you just hum in response, having already started, and he succumbs to your offer. Typically, Jeongguk would not be willing to accept anyone’s help. But there’s warmth and sincerity in your tone.

“Let me tie this for you.” Jeongguk steps behind you, lightly brushing your hair back to keep it out of your eyes.

Heat rushes to your face, and you nod in agreement. Instantly, Jeongguk separates your hair into three different strands.

“You know how to braid?” you ask, chopping away at the radish. “You can just tie a simple ponytail if you want.”

“Minny said she wanted to go to school with a French braid. I didn’t know how to do it, so I looked at a video online. I’m not that good, but let me practice, okay?” He ties off your hair with the elastic that he keeps on his wrist for standby. “Tadaaa!” A proud grin sits on his pretty lips.

You can tell that the braid is a little too loose for your liking, but you’ll be sure to show him how to properly braid later. Perhaps after dinner. “How does it look?” You wonder.

“You’re perfect,” Jeongguk says affirmatively, sweet as ever. “Here, let me give you an apron.”

Before you know it, he loops a string of fabric over your head. It sits loosely on the back of your neck. Jeongguk’s hand rests on your shoulder blade, pushing your hips against the counter as he reaches to tie the string around the small of your back. He fixates on the knot that tethers around his thick fingers as he works on the fabric. His breath is hot against your neck. You can feel the heat radiate off of him.

When he pulls back, you swallow the lump in your throat, sighing a breath of relief. “Thanks,” you murmur.

The worst part is that Jeongguk doesn’t even realize the effect that he has on you. You wonder when he’ll put an end to this madness. Because at this rate, you think you might explode if he inches any closer to you.

As it seems, fate has other plans.

While he watches you cook, he hovers behind you; not because he’s controlling, but because he wants to make sure you’re safe. He has to admit that you’re skilled with a knife, but your cooking techniques aren’t quite there.

“When you cut, curl your fingers and tuck your knuckles underneath them.” Jeongguk inches closer and places his chin on the crown of your head. He slots himself against your back as his protective arms cage you against the marble counter. His hands slide down from your wrist, careful not to startle you, before cupping them around your fingers. He gently guides your hand, ensuring that you don’t cut yourself.

You don’t realize that you’ve been holding your breath until he steps away. Maybe cooking isn’t as bad as you make it out to be.

The heavy downpour of rain patters against the windows.

“It looks like the weather is getting worse. I didn’t realize it would storm tonight,” Jeongguk peeks between the blinds before lighting a few candles. The lamps had been flickering because of the torrential rain. “The roads aren’t very safe. If you want to stay over, you can take the guest room.”

You nearly drop the cutlery on the table in the midst of setting up dinner. “Ar- are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Stop with that, you’re never a bother,” he reassures you. “If you want, I’ll drive you home first thing tomorrow morning.”

You think about the invitation before ultimately deciding to accept. “Thank you, Jeongguk. And by the way, I really appreciate how you set the room up for me.” You shoot him a grateful smile.

“Anything for my wife.” The warmth of his words makes your heart flutter.

When the table is finally set, the three of you settle down for dinner.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the beautiful arrangement of food you have yet to touch. There’s tender pork belly, fermented shrimp, spicy oyster radish, fresh garlic, and pickled cabbage among a bunch of other side dishes you can’t even put a name to.

“You said you were hungry, right?” Jeongguk picks up the cabbage leaf and stuffs the ingredients inside. He wraps it into a roll and places it on top of your fluffy white rice.

Watching the steam rise in front of you, you nearly bawl from how delicious it smells. The tears threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes.

Nobody has ever made you a home-cooked meal since your parents had passed.

“Are you- uhm,” Jeongguk lifts his hand, not knowing what to do with his own limbs. A set of chopsticks rests between his thumb and pointer finger, fish cake tucked between the silver metal. It hovers halfway across the table, abruptly stopping before he could reach your bowl. “You can cry, it’s okay-”

You don’t dare to move a single muscle when the tear falls down your cheeks.

Minji reaches over to wipe the droplet away. You can’t tell if she wants to comfort you, or rather, she’s just looking to steal a bite of your pork belly. But you’re inclined to believe it’s the former. Her father had already served a piece of meat in her bowl.

“It’s okay, eomma. You can cry. Just… don’t do it over the dishes. You don’t want your food to be salty,” Minji advises.

Jeongguk calls his daughter’s name, scolding. He plucks out a few tissues from the box and passes them across the table.

You wipe your eyes, praying that the tears will stop. “I’m sorry, I’m fine,” you shake your head. “I just don’t really remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal with anyone other than myself. I think my parents were the last people to ever cook for me.”

“What about your brother?” Jeongguk inquires.

“I’ve always made food for him growing up, and ever since he went to university, he’s been away from home. I really haven’t seen him in a while.” A sullen smile tugs on your lips. “We usually just talk on the phone.”

Jeongguk topples more food onto your bowl, filling it to the brim. “Whenever you come over, you can have any kind of food that you want. Just name it, and it’ll be yours. Even if I don’t know how to make it, I’ll learn. Now let’s eat up, okay?” He picks up a piece of pork belly, prepared to bribe you like a child who hasn’t stopped crying.

You open your mouth, allowing him to feed you, humming in satisfaction. You mutter a thank you before putting on your bravest smile as the rain pours outside.

It’s late in the night when you hear a soft sniffle that echoes from the other side of the bedroom door, followed by a dull strike against the wooden surface, a call for your attention.

“Eomma?”

It never takes you by surprise when a child who isn’t yours calls you their mother. It happens often enough at the daycare center. Tiny humans let the term of endearment slip from their loose lips ー some variation of “mom,” “mommy,” or “eomma.”

These children cry for you when they have trouble opening their chocolate milk, or when they get a “booboo” from their arts and crafts activity, nothing but a measly, barely-there papercut. These children have an understanding that they’re safe with you. That you’d take care of them like a mother would, opening their bottles, helping to clean their mess, kissing their pain away, and wiping the tears dry. Sometimes they don’t notice their honest mistake, having called you their mother. Other times, they’re apologetic and embarrassed. But what’s there to be embarrassed about?

The vocabulary of children is limited to only a few hundred words, but they always resort to the one thing they know. Whether it is, “mom,” “mommy,” “eomma,” or so on and so forth, they trust you in the purest form. They feel protected and comforted by you.

Although you’ve heard it a dozen times before, you’ve never seen a child mean it so earnestly, not like Minji, and definitely not at two in the morning.

You open the bedroom door, looking down to see her tear stained cheeks. The instinct to protect kicks in like second nature. “Minny, what’s wrong?”

Lightning flashes through the sky, followed by a loud crash of thunder. The little girl flinches with a yelp, squeezing her eyes shut, pressing her hands against her ears.

“It’s so loud, ‘m scared,” Minji pouts.

You crouch down to wrap your arms around her shoulders, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She shivers in your hold, trying to calm down as you rub soothing circles onto her back.

“Don’t worry, Minny. The thunder can’t catch you while you’re in here,” you murmur, adjusting the nightcap on the top of her head. “You’re always safe with me.”

“Can I sleep with you and appa tonight?” Minji asks.

“Th- the both of us?” Your eyes widen. Perhaps Minji doesn’t quite understand the terms of your arrangement. You’re not actually her mom, and Jeongguk isn’t really your husband. Certainly, sleeping in the same bed as Jeongguk crosses some imaginary boundary. “I- I don’t know if appa would-”

“Can we ask him?” Minji pleads, and she looks like she’s about to burst. It doesn’t hurt to try, right?

So you relent, and the two of you tiptoe down the hall to Jeongguk’s bedroom, hand-in-hand. There’s a light that leaks from the bottom of the doorway. Could he possibly be awake this late in the night?

You motion at the door, encouraging Minji to knock. She has to be a big girl, expressing her needs, asking for help when she needs it.

“Appa!” Minji whacks the palm of her hand against the wooden surface, and you have to correct her form. You squeeze her hands into a fist, showing her how to properly knock and urge her to try again.

On the other side, you can hear the shuffle of papers and the sound of wheels scraping against the linoleum floor, followed by the pad of footsteps. The door swings open, revealing a set of sleepy eyes, shrouded behind a pair of glasses. Jeongguk’s hair is disheveled, having run his hands through his overgrown mane a million times (he’s been pondering whether he should cut it, but you’ve shyly expressed how he looks handsome either way, and right now is no exception).

“Appa, can I sleep with the both of you tonight?” Minji hiccups between sniffles, and a tear treads down her cheek. When a crash of thunder sounds through the air, she lurches forward to wrap her arms around her father’s legs, shaking like a leaf.

Jeongguk pats the top of Minji’s head to comfort her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“The sky,” Minji shakes her head, pressing her face deeper into her father’s thigh. “Too loud. It’s scary. Wanna sleep with you and eomma.”

Normally, Jeongguk would be stressed, weighing his options, trying to determine the best course of action for his child. But there’s a sigh of relief that slips from his lips when his gaze meets yours. There’s a deep blush that spreads across his cheeks. “Is this okay with you?” His lips move in silence, mouthing the words, only for you to see.

In response, you nod your head and flash him a concerned smile. “You?” You mouth the words right back.

Jeongguk’s answer is obvious when he wraps his arms around the little girl and lifts her into the air. “Let’s go to sleep, Minny.”

Jeongguk taps his chin, pondering, as he stares at the little girl sandwiched in the center of his bed. “Something doesn’t feel right.” But there’s an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes. As tired as he is, he doesn’t seem to let it show. “You know what we should do?”

Before you can respond, he’s already darting out of the bedroom. He stumbles into the living area, grabbing all the mismatched furniture that he can find. There’s a coat rack in one hand and a stool in another. He runs to grab a fishing pole from the closet, one that he had stolen from Seokjin and never returned.

“What’re you doing?” Your brows furrow, confused. But the smile on your face tells him that you’re thoroughly entertained.

“We’re building a fort! Come help me!” He takes hold of your hand and leads you into the living room. “Here, take as many pillows as you can.” Instantly, he holds out a stack of cushions. And who are you to say no?

With your inventory in hand, you run back to Jeongguk’s bedroom and plop them down onto the bed. “Minny, put the pillows wherever you want! Make it comfy for yourself.”

The three of you get to work, constructing a pillow fort, and suddenly, you’re five years old all over again.

Jeongguk returns with spare bed sheets and throw-blankets, tenting them over the makeshift poles. When you’re finally satisfied with your fort, the two of you climb onto the mattress on either side of Minji, huffing and puffing from all the energy exerted.

“That was fun,” you say, exasperated. A beat of silence passes by as you catch your breath. “Thank you again for letting me sleep over, by the way.”

There’s fondness in Jeongguk’s eyes as he turns to look at you. “I hope you know that you can stay as long as you want, and you’re always welcomed whenever.” His sentiment makes your heart beat a little faster. “I told you I’d take care of you.”

“You should know…” As you stare at the roof of the makeshift fort, you try to make sense of how you ended up here. It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like you deserve it. “Taking care of me is more trouble than it’s worth.”

Jeongguk’s voice is stern and relentless. “It’s not trouble. Not if it’s you. Do you really think I scare so easily?”

You think you might cry, but you’ve already used up more than enough tears from your daily allowance. So you turn to thank him, only to be met with Jeongguk’s half-lidded eyes. He only hums in response ー there’s no need to thank him.

His face is illuminated by the faint glow of the desk lamp on the other side of the room, the one he abandoned in favor of lulling his precious daughter to sleep. Minji holds her father’s hand while you stroke her hair. Within a few short minutes, she’s sound-asleep. The room is quiet, save for her soft snores.

“Poor Minny, I hope that this doesn’t ruin her sleep schedule,” you whisper into the night.

“She might need a nap tomorrow, but that’s okay. It happens sometimes.” Jeongguk lets out a yawn as he tugs the blankets up his shoulders.

You remind him with gentle caution, “What about you? You shouldn’t sleep so late.”

“I know, I know.” He presses his palms against his eyes, utterly exhausted. “I just wanted to squeeze one more chapter in.”

You peek out from the gap in the fort, scanning the mess that lies on top of Jeongguk’s desk. Books are stacked across two different piles, separated by genre ー One of them being social psychology books required for his research; “How to Win Friends and Influence People” sits on the very top.

Another stack is dedicated to the parenting books he often checks out from the library. There are Hello Kitty post-it notes that fill up nearly every page, bookmarked for future reference.

Your eyes return to Jeongguk’s figure, convinced that you can steal a glance, evaluating his exhausted state. But he already has his eyes trained on you, albeit very groggy. A dopey grin stretches across his lips. If he wasn’t already tired before, he definitely is now.

“You don’t have to do all this alone, Jeongguk. You need to rest.” You flash him a matching smile, hoping that the sentiment reaches him. “I don’t think that you scare easily, but I don’t think you’re immune to it either. And that’s perfectly okay. We’re all just people trying to get by.”

Jeongguk sinks deeper into the pillows, succumbing to his sleepy desires. “Thank you,” he murmurs, slurring his words. Another yawn slips from his lips. “I’m just used to it 一 being on my own.”

“Well, you’re not on your own anymore. You can count on me. We’re a team, remember?”

Jeongguk hums, reduced to non-verbal responses that don’t require much energy. Exhaustion tugs at his eyelids until they’re shut. He makes a mental note to talk about this with you another day.

You wave a hand in front of his face, convinced that he’s far gone from the state of consciousness. “If it makes you feel better, I can head back to my room now,” you whisper. You think it might be futile to warn him, considering he’s not awake. But as you peel the blanket back, one foot off the bed, there’s a warmth that envelops your wrist, and you halt in your tracks.

“Stay,” Jeongguk, as tired as he is, manages to mutter with conviction.

His grip doesn’t falter, and so, you relent. You crawl back beneath the sheets and let the night fade into dawn.

The sound of rain splashes against the window. The petrichor smells like childhood. It feels like home, and Jeongguk has never slept so soundlessly in his entire life.

Somehow, Jeongguk wakes up long before you, and you want to curse him for looking so handsome at the crack of dawn. His hair, although disheveled, looks perfectly imperfect. His shirt, as loose as it is, hugs his body in all the right places, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His round specs perch on the bridge of his nose.

“What do you think about going on a family outing?” Jeongguk suggests over breakfast.

Minji’s eyes widen as excitement fills her tiny frame.

“That sounds like a fun idea,” you chime. “We should spend more time together so we can be perfect for the interview.” Because loving this man and his daughter is nothing more than a performance, right?

“Maybe we can stop at the convenience store and have a picnic in the park. What do you think?” In Jeongguk’s mind, he maps the layout of the market, pinpointing the food that the three of you would enjoy: kimbap, dried squid, potato chips, banana milk, and even fish shaped ice cream.

“The weather cleared up today. It’s beautiful outside.” You say, chowing down on a bite of strawberries.

Jeongguk raises a brow, questioning. “You want to go today? I thought you would want to go home after spending the night.”

“I don’t have much else planned on a Sunday. It gets kind of lonely at my house,” you shrug. “Are you sick of me already?”

But Jeongguk shakes his head. He’d be foolish to ever push you away.

…

In sync, both you and Minji enthusiastically bounce on your feet through the streets of Seoul. You could easily pass as a family from that simple action alone. It’s evident when elders cross paths with you, a fond smile sitting on their faces: “You have a beautiful family!” There’s no denying that. The three of you are picture perfect as you link hands on either side of Minji because she is, in fact, the center of your universe.

When you arrive at the convenience store, Jeongguk picks out a variety of nutritious food while Minji tries to slip cookies into the basket. She’s convinced that her father is not looking because he’s too busy sneaking glances at you from the other end of the snack aisle. He doesn’t think anyone would notice, but Minji surely does.

For some reason, he feels so content standing in a supermarket with his wife who picks the freshest fruit, and his daughter who tries to distract him from seeing the junk food in her hands. In fact, he could probably spend the entire day comparing vegetable prices, and he would still have the time of his life with you. He used to hate running errands, unless it was doing laundry. But now, he doesn’t seem to mind it. Perhaps it’s because he has two companions at his side, and it feels a little less lonely.

“Jeongguk?” You call his name from down the aisle. “Do you want me to grab coffee for you?” You reach for the top shelf on your tippy toes, struggling to grip your hands around the bottle.

Within an instant, Jeongguk is already at your side. He wraps an arm around your waist to prevent you from falling forward. A heat envelops your hand as he wraps his fingers around your palm. “I think I’ll skip on coffee for now. How about tea?”

Upon hearing his deep voice against the shell of your ear, you grow flustered. The heat of his body makes you freeze, and all you can do is nod your head, stunned. He reaches one shelf over to pluck a large bottle of tea, one that you can all share.

Although he’s dropped your hand, he keeps a strong arm around your waist. His shoulders are broad enough to simply devour you. Even his chest is so firm pressed against your back.

“By the way, angel, don’t you think we’ve moved on from the formalities?” There’s a pout that rests on his lips. “I’d like it if you could call me something other than Jeongguk. I think it’s more convincing that way.”

“But that’s your name. What do you want me to call you? Babe? Baby?”

He shakes his head as he rests his chin in the crook of your neck. His hair brushes against your cheek, and your breath hitches in your throat.

You stutter the words out of your mouth, trying to act unaffected. “H- how about darling? Honey? Sweetie? … Handsome?”

He doesn’t react to either of them, but handsome definitely makes him giggle.

You ponder for a moment more. “Then what about love?”

His arm squeezes your waist a little tighter as he presses an innocent kiss to your cheek. “That’s perfect, angel.”

He unravels himself from you as you stare blankly at the beverage aisle in complete awe. You brush your fingertips against your cheek where his warmth lingers.

This is still practice… right?

As you stroll through the park, you come across a live performance at the base of the fountain. There’s a man playing guitar, and he’s serenading the crowd as he busks for money. The three of you stand to admire just for a moment.

A few feet away, Minji is spinning and dancing to the soft melody. Meanwhile, Jeongguk moves his head to the beat of the song, singing the words, albeit faintly.

“You have a pretty voice.” You nudge your shoulders against his to catch his attention.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He’s bashful.

“You should sing for me one day.” You raise your brows, trying to tempt him.

He contemplates your request, but he teases you with a soft “maybe.” He bumps his shoulder against yours like a high schooler with a crush.

You return the sentiment in a playful back and forth. His sweet action makes you squeal, but not for the reason that you think. Because the affectionate brush of skin against yours quickly transforms into Jeongguk hauling you into his arms. His thick biceps wrap beneath your thighs, and he lifts you into the air. You can’t stop yourself from giggling when he spins you around. There’s a combination of thrill and euphoria in your chest.

Jeongguk’s mind briefly wanders back to the conversation he had with Minji right before he tucked her into bed last night. “Appa, do you have a crush on eomma?”

He had scoffed at the question, brushing it off as if that was far from the truth. But Minji had thought otherwise. “When you have a crush on someone, you think about them all the time. You want them to be happy, and you would do anything to make them smile. Whenever you look at eomma, I can see your ears go red. I think you were shy when she kissed your booboo, and you probably want to kiss her back, right?” For some reason, Minji’s advice seemed to be more introspective than what he could ever pull out of Seokjin.

Jeongguk shakes his head, returning back to reality as he tucks the memory away. When he places you on the ground, you pant with adrenaline. “I thought I was going to fall.”

His gaze meets yours, and he playfully brushes his knuckles beneath your chin. The peak of sunset illuminates your eyes, and you look golden. An epiphany flashes through his mind, and Jeongguk mutters a curse that echoes through his thoughts. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wants to kiss you.

But as usual, Jeongguk’s mind wins over his heart. He bites his tongue back and offers the next best thing: “Do you think I’d ever let you fall?” He grabs your hands as if nothing had happened ー as if he isn’t falling in love ー and you sway to the beat of the music, skipping to the lawn where you can enjoy your picnic.

…

The park is bustling with so many individuals going about their day, minding their own business. The city comes alive with all of the action that surrounds you.

“Eomma, what’s that over there?” Minji points at an art display at the other end of the fountain. There’s a throng of people, crowding around the small space. The three of you pack up your meal, making sure to toss all of your garbage, before heading over to catch sight of the action.

There are rows of copy paper attached to a fishing line. It strings across a makeshift perimeter, rooted with no rhyme or reason. Apparently, all the buzz is about an interactive exhibit. Anonymous letters from passersby are posted for you to view, and you may even contribute by submitting your own story. You could write about anything you want.

“That sounds like a fun idea,” Jeongguk suggests. So he grabs paper and markers for the three of you as you get to work.

Jeongguk tries to steal a glance at your story, but you throw your body over the paper.

“Hey, no peeking!” you shout. “These stories are supposed to belong to strangers, okay? Let’s keep it anonymous.”

On the other hand, Minji is enthusiastic to show her father the family portrait she’s drawn.

As the minutes pass, you finish jotting your thoughts. It’s not perfect by any means, but the sentiment is still there. When all is said and done, you’ve agreed that you wouldn’t read one another’s stories. One day, you both will disclose the contents of your letter, and you will finally know the truth, but today is not that day.

Dear reader, If I’m being honest, I’ve always felt undesirable. Nobody has ever confessed their feelings for me. I’ve never been in a relationship, nor have I had my first kiss. I’ve never been stopped in the middle of the street, only to be told that I have a beautiful smile. I’ve always been average at best. My friends are concerned that I’m lonely. They’re convinced that I need someone to take care of me, but I constantly tell them that I can do it on my own. I’ve done it my entire life. I’ve held my own hand, swallowed the heartache, and reminded myself “I can do this!” before doing the scary things I never wanted to do. I patted myself on the back when I finished school, earned my first job, and paid all my overdue bills. I raised my younger brother at the age of eighteen as if I was a single mother. I woke up to an empty bed every single day and fed myself scraps of food, even when I didn’t want to. Sometimes, it was burnt, charred, and a little too salty. But that’s what love tastes like, right? Through the smooth sailing and the rough patches, there was no boyfriend, no girlfriend, no partner or lover. Just me. But the more that I think about it, I am so, so tired. Perhaps I grew up too fast and burned too bright. Because now, I don’t know what to do. There’s a guy that I like, or at least I think I do. Nobody ever taught me how to sort out my feelings. I’ve always been told to give and give and give. I’ve had to sacrifice my life, my time, and all of my energy. I was never allowed to feel anger, sadness, or human connection. I never had anything for myself, and I feel empty. But lately, being with him brings me to life. Although I don’t know what it’s like to be in love, this is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to it. When I’m with him, my inner child wants to come out and play. That little girl has always lived in my imagination. I don’t know her very well, but she’s running around, laughing and dancing as if she knows no pain. With him, she is always reminded that she is beautiful and spectacular. That she is stronger than anyone he knows. She is safe. She is protected. Above all, she feels seen. She gets ice cream for dinner, and it’s sweet. It doesn’t quite taste like the love she once knew, but somehow, she thinks it’s even more delicious. Surely, yes, I can take care of myself. But maybe we can learn to take care of each other.

Hi. I don’t know who cares to read this, but if you do, welcome. Where do I even begin? I know this sounds pathetic, but… I don’t think anyone has ever truly understood me for who I am. Perhaps that’s my fault. I constantly reinvent myself to be the person that they want me to be. Society has so many expectations as to how I should look, how I should act, and how I should feel. Let me paint you a picture. I’m big ー horribly buff. I have tattoos and long hair. All the neighborhood grandmas tell me I should cut it because I’d be more handsome. They even tell their grandchildren not to look up to me because I’m far from being an aspiration. Even if I’m the most charming person in the room… if I change my appearance ー if I lose weight, cover my tattoos, and buzz off my hair, they’d find another reason to hate me. It’ll never be enough. They’ll always perceive me as the bad guy and villainize me for everything I do. They say it’s better to be feared than to be loved if I cannot be both. But… I think I want to be loved. I want to be loved so bad that I would do anything to make people look at me. Yet they all shove their unwanted opinions down my throat, and I have nothing left to swallow but my own pride. I have no choice but to be exactly what they want. Most people assume that I’m indestructible. Fortified. That I don’t have a single worry in this world. They think that I can shoulder all of these burdens, and nothing could possibly hurt me. Supposedly, I don’t ever cry ー I never break or bend or shatter because showing emotion is a sign that I’ve already lost. But it’s not true. I’m softer than I look. I worry that I’m not good enough. I feel like I suck at my job, and I constantly make mistakes. I don’t know how to be a good father, but I try. I don’t really know what I want to say. I just wish that people didn’t feel entitled to my body. My body is my own except when it isn’t. It happens more often than not. Maybe then, I could finally be myself, whoever that may be. It sounds like my life is awful, but I promise it isn’t that bad. Recently, I’ve found a small glimmer of hope. There’s one person who accepts me for who I am. She doesn’t expect me to be anyone but myself. She looks at me like I’m human ー as if I’m someone who’s worth it. Like I’m more than just an idea. She showed me that there’s kindness in this world ー that there’s bravery in being soft. She sees me, and scary enough, I think she can even see right through me. I’ve told her so many vulnerable things about myself, and she could probably stab me in the back with all that she knows. I think it would be worth it though. There’s still so much I have to tell her. She may not know the whole truth, but one day, she will. I hope she doesn’t leave me when she finds out. Until then, I will take care of her. I will keep her safe and protect her with every inch of my life. I promise.

By the end of the week, you and Jeongguk have amped yourselves up for Yumi’s engagement party. But there’s one problem.

Jeongguk is late.

He’s never late. When he needs to pick up his daughter from school, he always shows up thirty minutes before dismissal. On date nights, he knocks on your door while you’re in the midst of putting on makeup, and he gladly watches you doll yourself up for the entire hour. For Jeongguk to be late, something must be terribly wrong.

The two of you had agreed to meet up at Yumi’s party seeing that Jeongguk was running behind from work. But where could he possibly be when you need him the most?

Outside of Yumi’s apartment complex, you pace anxiously, twiddling with the engagement present in your hands ー a cast iron skillet that you and Jeongguk had both bought at the department store. From the sidewalk, you can hear the sound of music streaming from the open windows. Endless chatter filters between each beat. You glance at your watch for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Jeongguk, where are you?” You groan, ready to accept defeat.

A nervous sigh falls from your lips. Your shoulders slump. If you have to wait any longer, you might just head into the party all on your own and lose face in front of your friends.

Suddenly, you hear the echo of your name from down the street. Jeongguk is sprinting towards you. He’s a blur of motion. Before you realize it, the air is knocked out of your lungs. Jeongguk had overestimated his speed, missed his landing, and he is colliding into you with open arms.

“Angel, I’m so sorry I’m late.” He tucks his head against your shoulder, panting. His cheeks are hot, and his hair is disheveled. He murmurs apologies against your skin. The scratch of his voice etches a frown onto your face.

Between the two of you, Jeongguk is the more composed one. You’ve always known him to be calm, collected, a little silly, but lovely nevertheless. You’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s shaking.

You squeeze his shoulders in an attempt to peel his body away from yours. But his arms wrap around your waist even tighter, unwilling to part ways. This scene is rather familiar, something akin to a little child seeking comfort. You pat his back, hushing him, as to tell him that everything will be okay.

So you start counting to ten, reminding him to breathe in and out. You place your hand on his chest, strong and reliable, right over the beat of his heart. His eyes close, concentrating all of his energy on the blooming feeling inside of his ribcage. So you paint a pretty picture for him as you dwell in a little puddle of grief together.

“My mom used to tell me that if you transport yourself to a happy place, then all your worries will melt away.”

Jeongguk doesn’t respond, but he hums against your collarbone. He wants nothing more but to hear you talk. He loves the sound of your voice. What is your happy place?

“These days, I picture myself with you in your house. We’re baking a cake with Minny, and it’s going terribly wrong.” You let out a chuckle, and it’s the sweetest thing Jeongguk has ever heard. “Well, actually, the taste is perfect. You’re the head chef after all, and you’re so talented. You know better than me.”

You interrupt your own story with something that will definitely make him laugh. “Did you know that I’ve been borrowing cookbooks from the library? I know it sounds ridiculous. I want to get better so you don’t have to cook all the time. It’d be such a shame if I accidentally poisoned you and the cops would swarm in, charging me with second degree murder.” You can feel his smile against your neck. “I found a recipe for buckwheat noodles, and maybe we should try it out next weekend.”

He nods against your neck, sniffling. He doesn’t want to break it to you, but all you need is a boiling pot of water to cook the noodles.

“Well anyways, in my happy place, the kitchen is a disaster because there’s icing everywhere. Sprinkles are in your hair. I think I have flour in my bra and butter on my cheek. But we’re having fun, singing along to the radio with all of the wrong lyrics. I’d ask you to dance, and when you’re too scared of looking stupid, Minny would pull out a dance move that’s even sillier than what you could ever imagine. Because even if we can’t do it perfectly, whether it is cooking or dancing or singing, we’re still trying.”

There’s a wet tear that falls onto your collarbone. You trace a circle against Jeongguk’s chest, reminding him to concentrate all of his feelings right there. His shoulders relax and his breath evens out.

“When we’re in our happy place, we never go hungry. So if you ever feel sad or anxious, then just meet me right here. I’ll bring the cake ー sorry, just the ingredients, actually, but I’ll get better at cooking. I swear! Minny will bring her cute attitude. And you can just bring yourself.”

There’s a soft breeze that surrounds you. The moonlight conspires with the flight of the fireflies, illuminating the dim sidewalk. The party is long forgotten as you hold onto Jeongguk for just another moment. Reluctantly, he steps back with his head down. His eyes train on the pavement.

“How do you feel, love? Look at me.” You cup his cheeks, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling into your embrace.

After taking a deep sigh, he lifts his head to reveal a bruised cheek and a gash above his eye, right on the brow bone. The blood runs dry.

Shock runs through your body. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?” You gently move his head from side to side, examining every inch of his skin to check for more injuries. But your eyes are frantic. Your hands run through his hair, feeling for bumps and bruises. The search comes up empty, but your throat constricts at the thought of someone hurting your husband.

You grab the cast iron skillet, wielding it like a weapon with the force of a grip so tight that it threatens to bend beneath your fingers. Your other hand clenches his palm, stomping in the direction he came from so he could lead you towards the perpetrator.

Whoever did this to Jeongguk is going to pay, and you’re willing to kill whoever it is. Because for him, you would wage a full on war, running straight into your demise if it meant fighting for him. You would barrel through fire, load your rifles, and draw your daggers no matter what it takes. If they ask you to rip your heart out and put it in his hands, you would have considered the deal done long ago.

Jeongguk is quick to extinguish the fiery passion that fuels your anger, reminding you to not make any rash decisions. The flash of his doe eyes is enough to soothe your worries, and all you want to do is hold him.

The truth is, Jeongguk had already taken care of the situation. As the story goes, he had accepted a side mission to stop the smuggling of antiques from a museum ー gifts from a billionaire tycoon who had long passed. His heirs had sent the treasures to be appraised in the city before it was quickly intercepted by a smuggling ring.

Jeongguk managed to save original art from dynasties past (no doubt stolen), rare coins, china sets, and clusters of intricate jewelry. He stopped the ploy before the thieves had even left the warehouse. However, being the best of the best does not mean he is able to escape unscathed every time.

Jeongguk did not account for the hidden explosives on the agenda. A shrapnel had grazed his skin, forming a deep gash above his brow bone. Had he not been more careful, he would have been in much worse shape.

Although Jeongguk had completed his mission, barely injured, he can’t help but feel guilty for showing up late. If his wound was much more serious, or perhaps he was left for dead, he would not have made it to Yumi’s engagement party. The last thing Jeongguk wants is to keep you waiting.

While he zipped through the streets of Seoul, he didn’t even have a chance to think of a lie. All he could think about was running to you. So he says the first thing that comes to mind. “The airbags in my car set off.”

“You were in a crash? Was Minny with you? What are you doing here? You should go to a hospital!” The words splutter out of your mouth.

His hand cups yours as they rest on his cheeks. “Minny’s with Seokjin today, so don’t worry. The collision was really minor, I swear. I already went to the emergency room, and they said I’ll be good as new.” His voice is eerily calm.

He laces his fingers with yours and presses his lips against your knuckles before promptly taking the iron skillet from your hands. “I don’t want you to worry, let’s just go to the party, okay?”

You’re too concerned to even dwell on that tender moment of intimacy. “You worry me too much, you know?”

“I know, angel. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

You squeeze his hand a little tighter as you shake your head. “I don’t need anything. I’m just glad that you’re here.”

But little do you know, there’s a diamond ring worth millions burning a hole in Jeongguk’s pocket. Some dead billionaire isn’t going to miss it.

Everyone at the event is captivated by Jeongguk. Of course they would. It’s easy when Jeongguk is so charming in such a deceitful way. He can easily spin different versions of himself after each new greeting, creating a hundred nuances to his personality in an instant. He could tell everyone that he’s the prince of Joseon, and they would easily fall for his lies because of the charisma that he oozes.

Your friends see him as the best boyfriend in the world, someone who’s the total package and simply put, he’s way out of your league. He’s romantic in every aspect of the word, he’s open about his feelings, and he’s the purest definition of a “girl dad.” What more could you possibly ask for? Whatever it is, Jeongguk is exactly that.

Even when Jeongguk has no need to impress the men at the party, he has dozens of conversation topics up his sleeve. It’s impressive when he knows basically everything about everything. You name it: video games, boxing, and the federal reserve. This arsenal of information is stored in his mind simply because he’ll never know when he needs to strike up a conversation about camping, barbecuing, or fishing (despite never having an interest to sit and stare at the water with Seokjin for hours on end). Men are so simple minded. They’re absolute fools.

Thankfully, your brother, San, is just another man who falls for the thinly veiled ruse. He seems to approve of your relationship with Jeongguk. Mostly because he can talk about their passion for different cuts of meat. But also because he sees the way that your “boyfriend” takes care of you in the most subtle ways ー by virtue, it’s the act of noticing.

Jeongguk walks you through the crowds of people with a guiding hand on your lower back. He fixes your hair when it falls loose in front of your face. He refills your cup with your favorite drink without ever having to ask. He can’t stop talking about how grateful he is to have a chance with you ー how you’re so beautiful and smart and the only thing he ever wants. There’s obviously love and intention in Jeongguk’s eyes whenever he looks at you. Anyone could see that. To be loved is to be known, and Jeongguk knows you like the back of his hand.

You can feel the pressure of having to prove your relationship when all of the girls gather around, asking invasive questions. How did you convince y/n to go out with you? We almost lost hope for the poor girl. Have you all hung out as a family yet? What does Minji think of your relationship?

For some reason, it feels like you’re back in high school, listening to locker room gossip. It feels as if they’re judging you. They’re laughing at you. But time and time again, Jeongguk defends you and your honor. Not because you need his help, but because you love the safety and security of his words.

“I don’t appreciate you being passive aggressive. Because to me, y/n is the most precious person in the world. If you have something you want to say, then just say it to my face.” He bites back without ever breaking eye contact. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. It’s equal parts intimidating and the most attractive thing you have ever seen.

All the girls seem to agree when they swallow a trace of spit and nod their heads in obedience. “Sorry, we just wanted to say that you’re both so lucky to find one another.” They drop the subject, but only for a little while.

Throughout the party, Jeongguk holds you close because he knows how nervous you were to come, and rightfully so. You told him how scared you were to introduce him to all of your friends (he doesn’t see why they deserve that title when they’re nothing but mean girls). Nevertheless, you’re frightened because your relationship with Jeongguk is sacred. Untainted. Unconventional, yes. But it’s protected because only you know about the depths of your bond. After tonight, everything will change. Having your “friends” witness your love so openly feels as if you have to give up another piece of yourself. After making this public knowledge, nothing could ever fully be yours.

But this moment right here is yours to keep, yours to hold, and yours to cherish. Jeon Jeongguk is in your arms, and all you can do is make it known that you are in love.

“Whatever they say, ignore them, okay? Just look at me.” His arm wraps around your waist, and you relax in his hold. The stars in his eyes keep you captivated, and everything else is long forgotten. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, scared that if he were to go up one decibel, it would burst the little bubble that you’ve created for yourselves. Perhaps you would disappear if he says your name any louder, and he would wake up to realize that his dream girl is nothing but a figment of his imagination.

But there’s nothing about this relationship that’s fake. Your brother can see it all. Although you haven’t hung out with him in ages, he’s very intrigued with the man hanging off of your arm. “Jeongguk, when did you realize that y/n was the one?”

“Stop, we just started dating.” You smack the back of San’s head. But Jeongguk isn’t one to shy away from the question.

“Well, it’s a funny story. The first time I saw her, I thought I had to talk to her. A few months ago, I dropped my daughter off at the daycare. When I walked past the door, I tripped on my own two feet. I saw y/n reading a story at the front of the class. She was so elegant, graceful, and just so, so gorgeous. My first thought was that she is the most incredible person I’ve ever seen.” Jeongguk tells the story without ever taking his eyes off of you. It’s as if you’re the only person in the whole world. There’s a beaming smile stretched across his face. His dimples are carved into his cheeks.

“Minji, my daughter, she has a tendency to cry when I’m not there. So when she bursted into tears, y/n asked if she wanted to sit with her and help her read. She put my daughter on her lap, and instantly, Minny stopped crying.

“For weeks, I tried to work up the courage to approach her. I visited as much as I could. I borrowed more materials than I could even finish, and eventually, I had a pile of overdue books sitting in my apartment. When y/n wasn’t busy with the daycare, she worked at the front desk. I thought she might say something about my outstanding charges, but she never did. At that point, I wanted to talk to her so bad, but I was so foolish. I started bringing cups of coffee into the library, thinking that she would yell at me for breaking the rules.”

“Did it work? Why didn’t you just say something?” San wonders.

“I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t think she was interested. She barely looked at me. Never tried to initiate small talk,” Jeongguk shrugs.

Avoiding eye contact is exactly how you show interest in someone. Is there any other way to do it? You had been so nervous to even glance in his general direction! Men don’t ever give you affection, especially not men as gorgeous as Jeongguk. It just felt so wrong to even think about crushing on him.

“But one day, y/n approached me first by some miracle, and I was so shocked. I- I just thought she was an angel. My daughter was at her side. We talked. One thing led to another. The next thing I knew, I was stressing about what outfit to wear and buying flowers so I could pick her up for a coffee date. I don’t even know how to explain it. Everything just fell into place.”

You were convinced that Jeongguk had never noticed you before you approached him that fateful day in the non-fiction aisle. But it rings true that Minji had cried some months ago during reading time. You recall all of the details, albeit vaguely. Had Jeongguk been watching all this time? Did he really borrow an excessive amount of books and purposely buy illicit coffee just to get your attention?

There’s a soft smile that plays on your lips, and Jeongguk is certain that you’re a real life angel. “I hope you know that I waived your overdue fees every single time,” you confess.

…

At some point in the night, you and Jeongguk ended up separating in the most nightmarish of ways. Your coworkers had looped their arms around yours and pulled you away for some girl talk.

Meanwhile Jeongguk is at the other end of the hall, playing billiards with all of the other men. He socializes with them as if it’s effortless. He tells them jokes and makes them chuckle, but of course, his laugh is the one that stands out to you the most. He’s enchanting, and you are all but a moth drawn to a flame. He lights up every room he walks into, shining brighter than anything you’ve ever seen.

As you watch Jeongguk have his own fun, you check out of the conversation, barely listening to what Yumi has to say. You couldn’t quite relate to the stories that they’ve shared about their partners ー being engaged, moving in together, trying for children, having sex.

“y/n, how big is your boyfriend?”

You ponder the question. “Uhm, I don’t know his weight exactly…”

“No, no, sweetie, I mean how big is his dick?”

Your eyes widen in surprise as you shake your head. “We haven’t actually done anything yet. Our relationship is new, y’know. Also, I don’t think that’s any of your business-”

“You mean you haven’t even seen him naked? Surely you’ve touched him when you’ve made out, right?” Their eyes widen when you shake your head no, trying to sputter a retort.

“Even if you’re taking it slow, you must know what he likes in bed, right? Spitting? Choking? Spanking? A little bit of roleplay? Does he like to be called daddy?”

You, yourself, nearly choke on your own drink.

“Most couples get intimate because- I hate to break it to you-” Yumi leans closer to you until her voice is all but a whisper. “All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.”

You don’t know why you would believe Yumi’s words despite Jeongguk’s constant reassurance of how much you mean to him. She’s so fucking infuriating, but could she be right? Does Jeongguk see other women when you’re not around? Does he ever tell you that you’re pretty just for the performance of being a married couple? Has everything he said in the past few weeks been an act? Surely, you don’t know everything about this man, but would he ever lie to you? You bite the inside of your cheek as you anxiously pick on the skin around your nails, thinking about her advice.

Seemingly, Jeongguk doesn’t know what the conversation is about. But he doesn’t need to be familiar with the details to know that you’re growing anxious. He can see it from the way you fiddle with your hands. From the way you furrow your brows and chew on your lips. From down the hall, he can pick up on your breathing. He can practically hear the hurricane of thoughts swirling around your head.

Before you can drown in your thoughts, Jeongguk makes his way over to you, nursing a glass of champagne in his hand. “Hi, angel.” He whispers against your jaw. His cheeks are flushed pink as his head rests against the crook of your neck, slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. “Do you want to get out of here? You can stay over at my place tonight if you want,” he offers.

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” You shift your gaze to the gash on his brow. Even when you don’t feel your best, you’re still concerned for those around you. That’s just the person you are. You’re so used to giving yourself away.

“Kind of,” he says. But it hurts more knowing that you’re not okay.

You ruffle your hands through his hair, trying to soothe his ache. “Do you want your painkillers?”

“Just want you.” His deep voice rumbles against your collarbone as he presses a shy kiss to your shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home.” He gently grabs your hand in his and leads you out the front door. You don’t even have a chance to say goodbye to all the guests. Quite frankly, you don’t even care.

The moment you return to Jeongguk’s apartment, you dart to the medicine cabinet, filling a glass of water and instructing him to swallow the morphine pill. To soothe the pain, you apply some ointment onto his injury and gently blow on his gash, hoping that it doesn’t leave a scar to mar his beautiful face. But you avoid eye contact with him as much as you can. All while Jeongguk stares at your pretty lips and your glittery eyes. You look so cute when you’re concerned. A pout rests on your face, and he wants nothing more than to kiss it better.

But then you bid him goodnight, rushing into the guest room, pacing back and forth behind closed doors.

Jeongguk sits in the living room, stunned, wondering if he’s done something wrong. Whether his breath smells, or maybe he’s come on too strong. Is it obvious how much he cares for you? Yet a part of him wants you to know, even if you don’t reciprocate. To love you so freely is enough for him.

For you, the problem is not Jeongguk. It’s the fact that you can’t stop thinking about the conversation from earlier in the night. Yumi’s voice echoes through your thoughts. All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.

A part of you needs Jeongguk to tell you that this isn’t true. Your heart and mind may not be able to rest otherwise. So for the sake of your fake relationship, you put on a brave face and patter down the hall to his room.

…

The soft knock on Jeongguk’s door draws his attention away from the vanity. As soon as he tells you to come in, you hesitantly enter his bedroom.

His back is turned as he faces the mirror, heedlessly applying his skincare. “What’s up? Do you need anything?” He spins around to meet you with curiosity written on his face.

You catch a glimpse of his exposed chest, and your cheeks heats up in recognition. The top three buttons of his shirt are undone, seeing that he’s getting ready for bed. He removes his rings and the silver watch from his wrist.

“Sorry, I- I didn’t know you were indecent.” You turn your head away, avoiding his strong build ー the biceps that bulge beneath his shirt and the muscles that flex with every movement. Your hand shoots up to hide your face in embarrassment.

He finds it adorable how flustered you get upon seeing a little bit of skin. Still, he makes no effort to button up his shirt. Because that’s all that it is ー just skin.

You swallow the lump in your throat, and your eyes flicker to the floor as if the rug is the most interesting thing in the world. “Can we talk about something?”

“Talk?” He approaches the bed, patting the spot beside him. “Come here, what do you want to talk about?”

You perch yourself onto the mattress bouncing up and down from the weight of the springs. Jeongguk sidles closer to you. His knees knock against yours. He smells like jasmine and musk, and it’s divine.

“At the party, the girls were talking about relationships,” you begin.

He hums with a nod, attentive as ever. Jeongguk looks at you as if you’re the only person in the world, but you don’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with anything else but the intensity of his eyes.

“What did they say?” He wonders, readjusting your necklace so the pendant sits pretty on your neck.

“Y’know.” You tug on your fingers, finding something to fiddle with. “The usual stuff.”

He reaches for your hands, instantly halting your movements. Soothing your nerves, he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He knows that you must have mustered a lot of courage to come over and bring this up. “Angel, you have to use your words if you want to tell me what’s on your mind.”

You grow bashful under his touch, but that’s exactly the problem. “They talked about stuff like this.” You squeeze his palms for emphasis. “Holding hands. Touching. Skinship.” You mumble the last part, too shy to say it out loud: “Kissing.” Turning your cheek towards him, you murmur an apology. “Sorry. You make me nervous.”

Jeongguk doesn’t fail to notice the way your tongue licks the plump of your lips or the way your throat constricts after swallowing a trace of spit. “Nervous? C’mere- look at me.”

His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. It’s authoritative, and you can’t help but follow his orders.

“I’m not familiar with being this close to someone,” you motion at the lack of space between his body and yours. “I wouldn’t want you to be upset with me if I’m not very affectionate.”

“Angel, I’d never be upset with you. We can do whatever you want at your own pace.”

“Are you sure you’d never leave me if-”

Jeongguk stops your train of thought before allowing your mind to wander to a dark place. His voice hardens upon hearing such a suggestion. “I never want to even think about that possibility because I’m not letting you go. I’m yours no matter what. You’ll actually have to fight me if you want to push me away. Even then, I’d crawl right back to you.” He truly means every single word that he utters.

There’s a hint of a smile on your lips. “Sorry. Intimacy is really scary for me,” you confess, hesitating. Jeongguk gives you another moment to collect your thoughts. He’d give you as long as you need, even if it’s a lifetime and all the stars in the night sky have burnt out.

“But another reason I want to talk to you is because I’m concerned this won’t come across as a real marriage if we’re physically distant, y’know? The girls said that it’s normal for couples to be… intimate.”

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, at least not immediately. He doesn’t react. His eyes are distracted by your mouth ー the way your gloss clings onto your lips and the way it moves so languidly with every word you articulate.

“Jeongguk- Love?”

The sound of his name never really meant much to him. After all, it’s just an alias. Yet nothing sets him aflame more than the claim that you have on him ー the way that your lips purse when you call him your love.

“I know this sounds silly-” you begin.

He shakes his head, brows furrowed, effectively wiping away all of your insecurities. “Never.”

A naive grin spreads across your face. How could you be so foolish to believe that Jeongguk would make you feel anything less than important? Time and time again, he makes you feel heard. He makes you feel seen.

“Go on,” he urges. “Tell me.”

“Well, I read an article about how looking into your partner’s eyes for a long period of time increases intimacy. It also builds trust and helps to recognize emotion.” It’s ironic how you explain all of this while avoiding his eyes. Instead, you keep them trained on the scar sitting pretty and kissable on his cheek.

A dimpled smile spreads across Jeongguk’s face. “Okay, we can try,” he agrees. He reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and you think you might pass away. “But angel, you have to face me if we’re going to do this. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Right, yeah,” you mumble. “Of course.” Shuffling from the edge of the bed, you turn to face your husband. You tuck your feet beneath your butt and sit on your knees.

“Relax, okay? There’s no need to be nervous around me.” His voice is reassuring. It’s heartwarming.

You nod your head as you will yourself to meet his gaze. “I can do this. I can do this,” you think to yourself.

Jeongguk’s pupils glimmer in the lowlight, warm and comforting, and you wonder how anyone could be so handsome. You try to focus on the task at hand, but it’s difficult when he, himself, is so distracting. There’s a beauty mark on his cheek. His jaw. His nose. Beneath his lip. You could trace them all day and night, if only he’d let you.

Jeongguk’s deep voice cuts through the night. “Is there anything else that you want to try?”

“M- maybe we could hold hands?”

“We’ve held hands before.” He laces his fingers between yours so effortlessly, his hand engulfing.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Does it still make you nervous?” He wonders.

“A little bit,” you glance at how small your hand looks in his. “But I can get used to it.”

“Can I suggest something?”

You nod, agreeing. “Anything.”

He tilts his head to the side, raising a brow, unconvinced. “Anything? Are you sure?”

You nod with more confidence. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.”

“Then can I hold you?”

You hesitate for a second, unsure of what that entails. A beat goes by when Jeongguk is prepared to tell you that you’re free to say no. But you wipe that thought away, giving him your full consent.

Not a second passes by before he wraps his tattooed arms around your waist, tugging you onto his lap. Your thighs rest on either side of his hips, straddling him.

A squeak ー a fucking squeak. God, how much cuter can you get? ー slips past your lips. They’re swollen from how you nervously tug on the flesh, tethering it between your teeth.

“Does this feel better?” There’s a sense of longing that drips from Jeongguk’s honeyed voice.

“It’s… nice.” Your brain is on the verge of malfunctioning and shutting down upon feeling the heat of his skin against yours. “Better.” Your voice is breathy. It’s self preservation. You exhale deeply in an attempt to calm the flutter of your heart.

To keep yourself occupied, you trace your fingers across your bare thighs, unsure of what to do with them. Jeongguk had let go of your hands in favor of holding your hips. So you play with the hem of your dress that’s currently riding up your legs. Suddenly, you’re very aware of how little you’re wearing. How your skin is burning beneath his fingertips.

Jeongguk’s body is radiating, and you can feel the heat between your legs grow, the dampness in your underwear spreading.

“You can touch me if you want,” he offers.

You’re not as confident as Jeongguk, but oh, how you wish you were.

“Do you want to?” He senses your hesitation, yet you nod your head, affirming.

“I do,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “I want to touch you- feel you.”

Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, bringing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. They’re muscular beneath your touch. You curse yourself for letting your mind wander and for letting your panties soak with arousal ー neither of which you can control.

Somehow, you resist the urge to look down at his physique. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing his strong forearms, adorned by the dark tattoos that coil up his muscles. Your gaze darts across his features, struggling to focus on the starlight in his eyes. You switch between the edge of his jaw, the dip of his neck, and the plump of his lips.

“My eyes are up here, angel.” The corner of his mouth draws into a smile ー so bright and devastatingly beautiful. He hooks a gentle hand beneath your chin, guiding you to meet his stare. “Tell me what you’re thinking about. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Your voice is soft, just barely above a whisper. It’s nearly inaudible. “Thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.”

The innocence of your words makes Jeongguk blush. He’s never been the type to be so easily affected. After all, he’s the bold one in the relationship ー confident, decisive, dominant. But you make him weak in the knees.

“You don’t have to ask permission to kiss me.” Jeongguk inches closer, considerate hands squeezing around your waist. “You’re my wife.”

Why does the thought of belonging to Jeongguk make your heart stutter? You’re certain that this is nothing but pretend, yet the only thing that makes you believe this could be real is the soothing circles that Jeongguk draws onto your skin. He’s present. He’s willing. His lips are right there, right in front of you. You could take the leap of faith and close the distance, leaning forward to kiss him.

So you do.

When your lips meet, it’s as if the rest of the world has gone silent. Time has stopped, and nothing else matters but the two of you at this moment.

His lips are pillowy soft against yours. He tastes like champagne and mint. He’s gentle, only applying as much pressure as you do. You melt into his touch, feeling featherlight in his hold. His hands grip your waist so delicately, with love and intention, as if you are the most precious thing in his eyes.

You pull apart to catch your breath, allowing the air to fill your lungs, regretfully so. If you were to drown, you would want to drown in Jeon Jeongguk. Your eyes flutter open, but you can’t seem to look at anything but his cherry lips.

“Love…” The term of endearment leaves your lips in a pant, and he grows harder beneath you. “This is going to sound so embarrassing…” Your voice trails off as the heat engulfs your entire body. Your head lowers, feeling self-conscious of your actions.

Jeongguk nuzzles his nose against your neck as he presses tender kisses on your collarbone. “What is it? You can tell me anything.”

Your fingernails dig into his strong shoulders, squeezing his taut muscles as you muster the courage to tell him the truth. “That was my first kiss.”

He peers up at you from beneath his long eyelashes. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Jeongguk shakes his head, squeezing your waist with reassurance.

Your eyes are half lidded as you murmur a quiet confession, “I want to kiss you again.” Normally, you wouldn’t dare to be so bold, but you feel drunk on his taste.

“You can do whatever you want to me.” Jeongguk draws you closer, dragging your core onto the apex of his thighs, thick and sturdy. “I like anything that you like. Kissing you. Holding you. Just looking at you,” he shrugs. “And if it wasn’t obvious enough… I like you.”

Jeon Jeongguk makes you absolutely breathless. “Ar- are we still pretending?”

“Never.” Leaning forward, he brushes his mouth against yours. “I have never once pretended with you.”

You kiss him back with more fervor, desperate and wanting. You’re more confident now, fully knowing that Jeongguk wants this as much as you do.

“When you said I could do whatever…” You pull back, thinking about Jeongguk’s previous statement.

He nods his head with the most innocent beam on his face. “I mean it.”

God, you feel like such a pervert. You’ve shared your first kiss with him, something so sweet and innocent. Why couldn’t that be enough for you? You’re sitting on his lap, feeling the broad planes of his chest, and you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to do more. To feel more.

You’re ridden with guilt, drowning in your own arousal, but Jeongguk is so kind. He’s understanding. He’s staring at you as if you’re his whole world. He would never dare to objectify you because he’s a gentleman. But… What if you want him to?

“The girls at the party were also talking about…” Your words begin to trail.

“About what?” You subconsciously trace circles onto his shoulders, distracting yourself from the conversation, not knowing that Jeongguk’s eyes flutter close because he adores the drag of your nails and the subtle warmth of your fingertips.

“About… doing it.” Your words come out in a hushed whisper. It feels too inappropriate to say it out loud. Yet you don’t dare to mention how your panties are absolutely ruined.

“Angel, what did we talk about?” His lips press against your shoulder, at any inch of skin that he can reach. “You have to be more specific.”

Jeongguk has never once made you feel ashamed or embarrassed. He has never laughed at you or told you that you’re being silly. So why is it so difficult to tell him that you want him ー Need him?

You take the leap of faith because this is your partner ー in life, in death, and in crime. This is Jeongguk. Your one and only lover who never fails to remind you that you are the strongest woman in the world. He who delivers nutritious lunch boxes to you and tucks cute notes into the lid because he knows that they make you smile. Jeon Jeongguk who massages the knots out of your shoulders after a secret night of combat. He who gets pouty when you call him anything other than ‘love.’

There’s no need to hide anything from this man. He’s your home, just as you are his.

“They talked about sex… You know… making love. ” The crude word sounds so wrong leaving your lips. So out of place. It’s dirty, and it’s naughty. “They said all couples do it, but we’ve never…”

“Do you want to do it because you want to, or is it because your friends told you to?” Jeongguk searches your eyes for clarification. “Because if you feel pressured when you’re not ready-”

“No! I do!” You cling onto his shirt with more urgency. “I want to do it ー with you. I trust you.” You lean closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “You’re my husband.”

Jeongguk groans at the sound of your words. At the way your fingernails scratch down his chest. At the way you sit so pretty and perfect on top of his lap, pressing your weight into his erection.

He gulps as if this is the first time he’s ever been nervous in his life. “Why don’t you take off my shirt?”

“C- can I?” you stutter.

“Like I said, you can do whatever you want to me. You’re my wife, and I’m yours.” He presses his lips against your brow. “Yours to hold. To kiss. To love.” He kisses your nose. Your chin. Your jaw. He tucks your hair behind your ears and whispers. “I’m yours to make love to.”

With trembling fingers, you reach for the button that barely holds Jeongguk’s shirt together.

His hand engulfs yours. “Don’t forget to breathe, in and out, okay?” Jeongguk, patient as ever, waits for your respiration to steady. “You’re safe with me. If you want to stop, just say the word.”

With each button undone, his shirt falls apart, revealing Jeongguk’s toned abs. As glorious as he is, your eyes are drawn to the scar on the side of his stomach, barely covered by the fabric that hangs off his back. The scar is jagged, and the skin is raised, the tissue is puckered at the edges.

“Wha- what happened here?” Your fingertips reach down to trace over the scar, but before you make contact, you pull away.

“You can touch it-” Jeongguk reaffirms. “Wherever you want. I’m yours.”

Jeongguk’s breath hitches in his throat when your cold hands lightly graze the rough texture, feeling the ghost of his past. But he knows how you’ll respect his boundaries no matter what, and he relaxes, fully knowing that you’ll take care of him.

“I had surgery when I was younger.” Jeongguk lies. “They took out my appendix.”

Your brows furrow. There’s no reason not to believe him, but why is the scar so jagged and uneven? Certain parts are wider than others as if the surgeon had twisted a large blade into his abdomen, and not simply sliced to gain access to his organs.

As usual, Jeongguk can read the concern written on your face. “It’s okay, it didn’t hurt much.” The curve of his lips settle into a warm and reassuring smile. “I promise.”

Jeongguk doesn’t express any discomfort about his scar, yet you can’t help but wonder what kind of horrors he had to live through.

To ease your mind, Jeongguk pulls you into his body and presses his hands beneath your thighs.

A yelp escapes from your lips as he lifts you up. You’re chest to chest with him, legs wrapping around his waist. He presses your back down to the mattress, settling your head onto one of the pillows at the bedpost.

He hovers above you, a hair's breadth away.

“Hi,” he whispers against your lips. “You look so stunning.”

You grow shy with all the attention that Jeongguk feeds you. “Hi,” you whisper back. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist.

“Can I take this off?” Jeongguk glides a finger beneath the strap of your dress.

There’s a rush in your head, feeling dizzy upon nodding your head with so much vigor.

His lips pair with yours in a quick kiss before calling you a good girl. He shifts his weight off of you so that he can tug you into an upright position and peel the dress off.

Jeongguk’s eyes widen at your bare chest, having omitted a bra so as to not ruin the outfit. His throat goes dry, and he’s having trouble forming words in his head. You’ve never seen him so speechless.

Subconsciously, you raise your arms to cover your chest.

“No, no, no, don’t do that.” Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, pressing a smooch to your delicate skin. “You’re so pretty like this. Don’t ever hide from me, okay?”

His words make you shiver. Having someone dote on you as much as Jeongguk is something you’re not used to. But that’s exactly why you’re here, right? So you nod your head and let him pin your hands to the mattress before leading a trail of kisses down your body.

Curious fingers speak freely against your skin, exploring every inch of you. He takes note of every gasp, giggle, and moan that escapes your lips. He presses his swollen lips to your sensitive spots until you keen louder for him, desperately begging for more. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking on the bud until you whimper. He’s a drooling mess over your tits as he leaves a trail of saliva, marking your skin and claiming you as his.

Jeongguk furthers his descent down your tummy, placing sweet kisses against the waistband of your panties. He reaches down to feel the leather strap around your upper thigh. It’s the holster that you use to sheathe your knife, and thank God you disarmed before stepping into Jeongguk’s bedroom.

“I use it to hold my pepper spray,” you murmur a half-ass excuse. “Some of my clothes have shallow pockets.”

Jeongguk smiles against your skin as he ghosts his lips against your soft thighs. He doesn’t think much of it, but he does think it’s really hot. So he doesn’t bother to unstrap as he continues to worship your body.

What catches his attention is not the way you’ve soaked through your underwear, as arousing as it is. But rather, he’s intrigued by the faint mark on the outside of your thigh. It’s not a regular, old scar. To Jeongguk, it’s oddly familiar because it’s what appears to be an old bullet wound.

Jeongguk stutters in disbelief, eyes wide. “What’s this? W- were you sho-” He tries to mentally collect himself as he settles on a choice of words. “Were you hurt? Who hurt you?”

You look down, noticing the circular scar on your outer thigh before shaking it off. “It’s nothing. It was from an injection.”

“Are you sure? It looks li- It looked serious.” His voice trembles with concern, hands fisting at his sides.

You pull him up by the collar of his undone shirt, hanging off his broad shoulders. Your lips meet his in a delicate, comforting kiss. Jeongguk visibly relaxes in your hold.

“I’m fine, really. I just want you.” You claw his shoulders in an attempt to peel the rest of the fabric off.

Jeongguk sighs, trying to forget about what he had seen. But he’s certain that his mind will wander back to the scar at another point in time. He strips the shirt off his back, carelessly tossing the fabric onto the floor.

Jeon Jeongguk is mesmerizing. You’ve never seen the entirety of his sleeve, but there it is, in all its glory. There’s a faint beauty mark on his chest, one that you did not account for when tracing all of the scars and marks on his upper body.

“Tell me you want me,” his breath is hot and heavy against yours.

Subconsciously, you clench at the sound of his words. “Guk- I want you more than anything.” Your hands float down to the buckle of his jeans as you unclasp the button. “You’re wearing too much. Take it off.” The plea that falls from your lips is breathy and desperate.

“Fuck-” Jeongguk curses, trying to restrain himself.

Jeongguk has slept with plenty of women before, but never like this. He’s always had one night stands with an ulterior motive, whether it is for leverage or intel or for the sole purpose of converting an innocent woman into a whistleblower. He’s fucked with media journalists, cabinet members, and even the wives of politicians. He isn’t proud of it, but women, just like everyone else, are more likely to say things they don’t mean when their desires are fulfilled. They’re willing to trust him and spill their secrets when they’re lost in the throes of pleasure ー when he hands over his lust and his attention. It’s transactional.

Jeongguk has always thought that love is cheap. But not with you.

With you, Jeongguk has the innate need to take his time. He wants to show you what it means to make love.

He hooks his hand beneath your panties, pulling them down your legs. There’s a string of arousal that breaks when he tugs the fabric off. It’s absolutely soaked in your arousal. Jeongguk’s lips press against every inch of your skin, leaving no spot untouched.

You shudder when his hot breath meets your inner thighs, threatening to close them. He wraps his thick arms around your legs, digging his fingers into your hips, pinning you to the mattress.

He keeps his eyes trained on your face as you tremble beneath his touch. He kitten licks your clit, careful as to not overwhelm you. But you quickly melt into the pillows, gripping his hair between your fingers.

Jeongguk wants to commit this to memory. The way that you look so angelic in this light.

Quiet whimpers escape from your parted lips. “You don’t have to hold back,” he reminds you. “Be as loud as you want. Nobody’s home. We have all the time in the world, and I want you to feel good.”

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking softly on the bundle of nerves until you’re writhing against his mouth. Soon enough, you grind your hips, practically riding his face like a needy slut, desperate and wanting.

The moans slip out of your mouth freely, and Jeongguk grows harder at how pretty you are, lost in pleasure. He begins to rut his hips against the mattress, seeking some kind of relief for his aching cock.

His tongue slips between your walls, licking up the arousal that seeps down your thighs. His chin is coated in your wetness, and he’s utterly obsessed with your taste.

Your nails dig into his hair, pulling on the roots. He elicits a moan against your core, and you’re muttering apologies, “sorry, ‘m sorry.” Yet you continue to grind your cunt against his tongue, proving that you’re not sorry at all.

Your grip loosens, but Jeongguk whines at the loss of tension. “Feels good, angel, don’t stop.”

He quickly grabs your hands and places them on the top of his head, encouraging you to tug as hard as you want. He’s obsessed with your taste, but he’s also addicted to the pain that you inflict on him.

He dips his tongue between your walls, reaching as far as he can go. He smiles against your core as if he’s the one enjoying himself ー and truly, he is. He can’t get enough of you. Jeongguk loves to bury his face into your sweet pussy, making out with your cunt. His chin is doused in your essence, and he wants more. He needs to see you dripping in cum so he can taste you straight from the source.

“Guk, it feels weird,” you choke on your words, pressing your hands against your tummy. The tears cascade down your cheeks as your high builds in the pit of your stomach.

“Shh, shh, angel,” he hushes before dropping a thick glob of spit onto your entrance. He can’t believe that you’ve never come in your life. Have you never played with your cute little cunt before?

Jeongguk laps your clit while he works a finger into you, gliding between your tight walls. He pushes another one in, watching you stretch around his digits. In the back of his mind, he wonders how you’ll be able to take his cock when you can hardly take his fingers. He curls them inside of you, slowly adding a third.

You will yourself to pick your head up, allowing your gaze to meet his. The sight before you is filthy beyond belief. You can’t believe that Jeongguk is making out with your naughty pussy, and you love it. His fingers are gliding inside of you, reaching places you’ve never reached before. He’s humping the mattress, trying to satiate his throbbing cock that’s leaking through his boxers.

“Guk- love, I-”

“Just let go. Come for me,” his husky voice vibrates against your cunt.

At the sound of his command, you unravel on his tongue, shuddering beneath his strong hold. Your cunt pulses as waves of pleasure rip through you. Soft moans flow through your parted lips, and it’s suddenly Jeongguk’s new favorite melody.

He watches you fall apart with hearts in his eyes. His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you in place as he fucks you through your climax. You’ve never felt a sensation this strong before. It doesn’t even compare when you’re high on adrenaline.

Yet Jeongguk laps your pussy as if he’s a puppy, so eager to please you as he collects all of your cum on his tongue. He wants you as much as you’ll allow. Before the overstimulation sets in, you have to weakly tap his shoulder, pushing him away as your thighs close around his head.

He presses a smooch to your clit before finally pulling back. “How did that feel?”

“Never felt anything like that before,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath. “C- can you show me how to touch you too?” The innocent look in your eyes drives him absolutely mad. “Wanna make you feel good.” You palm him through his boxers, and he groans at your touch.

Fuck. “Tonight’s about you, angel.” Jeongguk curses at himself because you look so pretty batting your eyelashes at him. You’re practically begging to suck him off, and he can’t bring himself to say yes. Your hands dip beneath his underwear, gliding your hands up and down his throbbing cock.

Jeongguk thinks that he might be in heaven. “Aren’t you too tired? I’ve already made you come once.”

But you shake your head, “I want more, please? I can take it. Will you please give it to me?”

“I- I don’t have a condom,” he confesses.

“Don’t care, I need you.” Your hands roam across the planes of his chest before settling on the back of his neck. You pull him closer until your lips brush against his. “Need you so bad…” You subconsciously roll your hips, grinding your bare cunt against his thigh, pleading ー begging for him to sink his cock inside of you to relieve the ache. “It hurts,” you murmur.

What else is Jeongguk supposed to do when his baby is aching, begging and pleading for his help? So he pulls his cock out of his boxers, tossing the offensive material out of the way. Your mouth waters as your eyes meet his length.

“It’s not gonna fit,” you shake your head. Surely, he could split you open with his sheer girth. “You’re too big.”

Jeongguk wraps his hand around his length, jerking himself off before pressing the length of his thick cock onto your stomach, measuring how deep he could possibly go. The pretty tip rests against your belly button. Jeon Jeongguk could actually break you, and you would let him.

“Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop-”

You shake your head with desperate vigor, and your imploring hands reach for his broad shoulders. “Just- just go slow, okay?”

Jeongguk pairs his lips with yours in a sweet kiss, “I’ll take care of you. I promise.” He releases a thick glob of spit onto your cunt before rubbing the tip of his cock against your core, spreading the sloppy mess across your mound. He drags his tip against your lips before slowly pushing into your soaked cunt.

You gasp upon feeling the intrusion, squeezing your eyes shut.

Jeongguk nibbles the column of your neck, whispering quiet praises against your skin to distract you from the discomfort. He looks down to see barely half of his length tucked inside of you, yet your walls are stretched to accommodate him. At the pit of your stomach, there’s a bulge where the tip of his cock prods against your cunt. It protrudes against your tummy, leaving an indentation. He can quite literally watch his dick plow into you.

“Angel, look at how well you take me,” he groans.

You will yourself to open your eyes, seeing how he stuffs you to the brim. The visual is so filthy.

“God, I’ve been dreaming of this.” Jeongguk drops another glob of spit where his length meets your cunt, allowing the glide to be more effortless. The way that your pretty pussy struggles to make room for him is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. His eyes roll back as he squeezes your waist, trying to regain an ounce of composure.

“You’ve been thinking about this? About us?” You clench upon hearing his deepest desires.

He curses under his breath, not knowing how much longer he’d last if you’re already this tight wrapped around his cock. “You have no idea-” When he rests his head against your shoulder, panting, another inch sinks inside of you. “Sorry, ‘m sorry. You just feel so fucking good.”

His rough hands wander across your body, mapping every inch of your skin, committing it to memory. Jeongguk taps his fingers against your lips as he requests you to ‘open up.’ As obedient as you are, you part your lips, allowing him to slip his digits inside.

“Suck on my fingers,” he coos as he pushes himself further into your sweet pussy. “That’s my good girl.” He pulls his calloused fingers out of your mouth, and they find home onto your clit as he rubs figure eights onto your bundle of nerves. It serves as a distraction from the slight sting of resistance where his cock stretches your walls.

But for Jeongguk, this feels like heaven. He resists the urge to sheathe himself into your virgin cunt, down to the hilt. “Can’t believe that I get to see you like this.”

Jeongguk seriously can’t believe how fortunate he is that he’s your first. Nobody has ever touched you the way that Jeongguk does. Nobody will ever fuck you or make you come the way that he will. And certainly, nobody will ever get to see you act like a desperate little slut. You belong to Jeongguk just as he belongs to you. And this is the privilege he gets when you’re his wife.

You watch his face twist in concentration as he works himself into you. His biceps bulge, and his skin dimples beneath the pressure of your fingers when you squeeze his arm. They feel so rock solid beneath your touch. So strong and so, so reliable like the Jeongguk you know and love. You whimper simply because he’s hot, and you could never resist him.

“S- something wrong?” He stills his hips inside of you, and his cock pulses.

“N- no,” you whine, shaking your head. “Just wanna hold your hand.” You scratch down his biceps as you paw at his chest. Even when he’s buried inside of you, it’s still not enough. You need him, and you need all of him.

He grabs both of your hands, softly squeezing them as he pins them on either side of your head. Jeongguk cages you against the mattress as he presses his body weight against yours, plunging his cock deeper and deeper between your walls, inch by inch.

Your chest heaves when his hips press against yours, completely buried inside of you, and a silent cry slips past your lips. Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes.

“Just breathe for me, angel, okay? Relax, ease up for me. I know it’s uncomfortable now, but you’ll feel so good, I swear.”

You nod your head, and you can’t help but cry. You just feel so full. Two twin tears trail down your cheeks, and Jeongguk is quick to kiss them away.

He soothes his thumb over the back of your hand as he praises you. “You’re doing so well for me. Such a good girl. You can take it, right? You can take it all for me.”

You nod your head, letting the tears fall down like summer rain. “I can take it, I swear-” You sound so choked up, and it’s probably due to the fact that Jeongguk is so fucking deep, you can practically feel him in your throat.

“Move, please, I need you so bad.” The broken sob rips out of your throat as you cry in desperation.

He pulls out with a shallow thrust, wanting to be as close to you as possible. Looking down, he can see where his cock fucks into you, where there’s a bulge that shadows every single one of his thrusts. He takes your hand down to rub over the protrusion.

“Can you feel me? Right here?” He quickly slides out of you before pressing his hips flush against yours in one swift motion.

A deep groan rumbles through his chest, sending a deep vibration through your body. His breath is hot against your lips, and you can actually feel him in your tummy. You can feel him everywhere.

“How’s it, angel?”

“Feels full-” you manage to choke the words out of your mouth.

“Too much?” Jeongguk asks. His breath is shaky as he plows his hips against yours. His cock twitches inside of you, and he really doesn’t want to pull out. But if you had asked, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so.

Thank God for your insatiability because you shake your head as you bring your intertwined hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his skin. “Feels good- keep going, please,” you beg.

“See? I knew you could take it like a good girl.”

Soon enough, the discomfort subsides, and all you can feel is pleasure in the pit of your stomach. Jeongguk fucks into you until he bottoms out, prodding at the spot that has you seeing stars. Your eyes begin to cross, obsessed with the way he fills you up, turning you into a stuttering mess.

“Oh my god, feels s’ good, Guk- Don’t stop,” you cry, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist to keep him close.

Your mouth falls open and drool begins to slip from the corner of your lips. Jeongguk wedges his tongue into your mouth, swirling your spit and saliva together into one hungry mess.

He shifts his attention to your sensitive neck as he sucks on the column of your throat. A mark begins to bloom above your collarbone. If anyone were to doubt your marriage and the fact that you belonged to Jeongguk, there would be no reason to do so now.

The only thing you can focus on is the way that Jeongguk pokes your cervix, and you want nothing more but for him to flood your womb. Your heavy lidded eyes fall shut, your head lolls, and your cheek rests against the pillow.

But Jeongguk refuses to let you look away. His hand hooks around your jaw, and his fingers dig into your cheek. “Look at me,” he demands. “Want to see you when you come.” He lifts your face off the pillow and presses his lips against yours.

Jeongguk gives deep and pointed thrusts into your cunt. He grips your hands so tightly, but you welcome the embrace. His hips snap against yours, rutting into your battered hole as you desperately chase your high.

“‘m sorry, princess, am I too rough?” He mouths against your lips. “Just f- feels so good around me. So tight n’ warm. You’re s’ perfect.”

You shake your head in desperation. “N- no, I love it-” You love him. “I’m close,” you cry, overwhelmed with emotions.

“Come for me, angel,” he groans into your ear, pressing kisses against your nose, your cheek, your lips. He squeezes your hands, never letting you go.

He pounds into you once, twice, three-four times, bullying his cock into you, and you come undone with the rough snap of his hips. You tremble in his arms, feeling this orgasm tenfold compared to the last. Cum begins to seep out of your cunt, drenching Jeongguk’s cock until there’s a ring of cream at the base of his length.

You tight little cunt clenches around him as if you never want him to leave. He finds it hard to breathe when you look so beautiful, so pretty, and just so cute caged beneath him. As much as he wants to come inside of you and stuff you full, Jeongguk is quick to pull out when he feels his climax approach. He glides his cock against your cunt, rutting against your lips. He paints your stomach with ribbons of white cum, groaning at the lewdness of it all.

Thoughts of Jeongguk breeding your cunt flashes through your mind ー having him flood you with cum round after round until you can have a happy little family of four.

Obscene images of you doing this again and again in different positions send your mind racing. You want him to bury himself to the hilt with your knees pinned against your chest. If only he could flood your womb as he holds you by the back of your thighs in a mating press. Maybe you can come when you’re on all fours, on your hands and knees. Or you could take him down your throat as deep as you can go, choking and gagging on his length with saliva dribbling out of your lips. Although you’re certain that you could barely take half of him considering his size and your inexperience. But Jeongguk can teach you, and you can practice night after night until he absolutely ruins you.

“So much cum,” you murmur, admiring the liquid that rests on your tummy. You swipe your fingers across your stomach before sticking them in your mouth. Jeongguk’s cock twitches at the sight of you so desperate for a taste.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “How was it?”

“Can we do it again?” Your eyes glimmer with wishful thinking. It’s safe to say that you had the best night of your life.

Jeongguk sputters a laugh, shaking his head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He carries you to the bathroom, making sure you use the toilet to prevent UTIs. Meanwhile, he runs a bath for you where he lathers lavender shampoo in your hair and rubs the knots from your sore shoulders, down to your hips and legs. Between soft giggles and splashes of water, you share sweet kisses and loving stares. Before your fingers can prune, Jeongguk lifts you out of the tub and dries you off with a warm towel.

The two of you tangle beneath the sheets. But before you fall asleep to the sound of one another’s heartbeat, you ask Jeongguk the question that’s been on your mind.

“I was just wondering… Do you like to be called daddy?”

His lips meet your forehead before tucking you closer to his chest. “Go to sleep, angel. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

Jeongguk, in fact, does like to be called daddy among a plethora of other vulgar words. This vital piece of information is not necessary for the Hwa Yang interview, but you tuck that specific fact into the recesses of your brain for future reference.

Because the truth is, you don’t have enough time to memorize Jeongguk’s life story. You can save that for another day. The Hwa Yang interview is in less than a week, and you have to save all of your brain space for relevant ー appropriate information. Such as the values of your family and the importance of education in your lives.

Thankfully, as Jeongguk’s informant, Seokjin managed to snag sample questions that the interviewers are likely to ask: What type of person do you want your child to grow up to be? What is your child’s school experience like thus far? What are some habits you practice to help your child acclimate to the academic rigor of this school?

So Jeongguk, Minji, and you work tirelessly to come up with the perfect answers that give the impression that you are a family exuding elegance. In the eyes of the admissions director, it basically means that you have to rival the royal family.

Minji should have interests beyond her plushies and her manhwas, something along the lines of tennis, horseback riding, or crossword puzzles. She has to continue with her studies ー global history, foreign affairs, music theory, and yes, even her sworn enemy, mathematics. At the mere age of five, she should obtain fluency in a second language (which is apparently really impressive if you’re the royal heir to the British empire).

All of this preparation proves to be handy because at the academy, the board of interviewers ask about Minji’s interests and her hobbies. They want to know what type of learner she is and how she can contribute to the fast paced learning environment.

Although Minji is exceptional as she is, you can’t help but wonder why a child has to be a prodigy to be deemed as someone worthy of a good education. What’s wrong with simply existing? What’s wrong with being average? Because if the price of being average is being a decent human being, you would rather take your chances at a different school.

The sound of the headmaster’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “I want to ask Minji what a typical day in the household looks like.”

She straightens her posture upon hearing her name. “I start the day when eomma wakes me up and helps me get ready for kindergarten. She double checks to make sure my homework and my school supplies are in my bag. She also packs extra clothes for me just in case. Appa makes breakfast in the kitchen, and when we finish eating, they walk me to school-”

The headmaster crinkles his brows. A look of confusion crosses his features. “Does your father always cook for the family?”

“Yes, appa usually cooks because eomma works really hard. Sometimes, she comes home with aches and pains because of all the energy she uses.” Minji shifts her gaze to her father, trying to gauge whether her answer is acceptable. Meanwhile, your eyes are filled with concern, worried she’ll somehow expose your criminal history. “But eomma always helps when she can. She goes to the market, and she does the laundry. She also makes tea for appa and hot chocolate for me. She helps me with my homework even if I don’t like fractions.” Minji says the last part in a hushed whisper.

“Really? Is your mother someone you aspire to be? Despite your father being the one to prepare your meals? It’s rather untraditional.”

“I don’t believe that question is pertinent to the interview. It’s quite leading,” Jeongguk states. His voice doesn’t falter, but there’s animosity in every breath that he takes. “I can assure you that my wife is a wonderful mother and role model to our daughter. Now may we please refocus our attention on Minji and her academics?” Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow, and he is seething. He balls his hands into fists, resisting the urge to throw a right hook at the man across the table.

Instinctually, your fingers inch across the settee, reaching for Jeongguk’s hand in order to soothe his nerves. His shoulders relax upon feeling the heat of your skin as if to quietly remind him that everything is okay.

“Of course, I apologize.” The headmaster says diplomatically before jotting down a few words into his notebook. He raises his nose in the air as if he’s on some high horse.

The interview persists until the end of the hour, and Jeongguk remains at the edge of his seat. He holds his hand in yours to keep his composure intact. Thankfully, the dean of admissions and the executive advisor have more tasteful questions to ask.

However, it doesn’t last long. The headmaster intercepts once again. “Mrs. Jeon, I noticed that your documents indicate you are Minji’s stepmother, correct? Do you ever feel some kind of disconnect considering that you are not her biological mother?”

You’re taken aback by this impromptu question. You didn’t prepare an answer for this, although your natural response would be to wrap your hands around this man’s bare neck, wringing it dry. Yet you remain composed for the sake of Jeongguk and Minji. You can feel Jeongguk hold your hand tighter in his. But you pat his wrist, serving as both a warning and a comforting acknowledgement.

“I love Minji as a daughter, just as any other mother. To me, it doesn’t matter if she’s not my blood relative. We’ve grown really close ever since we’ve met. I admit that I have never been a mom myself, and I’m faced with a new learning curve every single day. But isn’t that what motherhood is? It’s nothing I’m not used to. Growing up, I raised my younger brother. At work, I take care of children from all different backgrounds. Surely, I make mistakes, but I think every parent leaves a mark on their child no matter what they do. Sometimes it’s a stain. Other times it’s a break, a bend, or a crack. Other parents can splinter their kids, but I hope that I never get to that point. I’m not perfect, but I’m constantly trying to be better. I love Minji more than anything.”

“So you never feel any sense of inadequacy or resentment?” The headmaster has the audacity to question your parenting skills.

Jeongguk cannot stand to hear the headmaster criticize you anymore. In a blink of an eye, he slams his fist against the coffee table. The wood splits in half beneath the brute force of his hand, and you’re quite impressed by the display of action.

“This is wildly inappropriate for an interview. This entire time, you’ve done nothing but berate my wife because we do not have a conventional family. We’re not wealthy people. We work hard for what we do. We take care of one another in a way that only we know and understand. If you can’t accept that, then maybe this is not the school that we want our child to be enrolled in.” Jeongguk’s chest heaves as he says his peace.

He doesn’t even take another moment to listen to the headmaster. There’s nothing he could say that could warrant forgiveness. So Jeongguk picks up his daughter, and he grabs your hand before storming out of the interview room.

Jeongguk is going to have a difficult time explaining to his boss why he’s failed his mission.

“I’m sorry I messed up Minji’s chance of going to Hwa Yang.” You tug at the sleeves of your dress as you stare at the floor.

Back at Jeongguk’s apartment, you sink into the couch, allowing the weight of the situation to finally settle.

Jeongguk rests his hand on your shoulders, turning you so that you can meet his gaze. “You didn’t mess up anything.” His eyes are filled with warmth, but you feel as if you don’t deserve it.

“We worked so hard for this, and it was all for nothing.”

There’s still residual rage that flows through his veins. “Nothing? Don’t say that. Don’t you know that I lo-”

Your heart lurches out of your chest as you stare at him in awe. He loves you?

Jeongguk’s hands shift to hold your cheeks, running his calloused thumb against the edge of your jaw. He sighs, trying to collect his thoughts. “We have each other, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day, okay? We couldn’t anticipate that they’d be so cruel. I would defend you over anything in this world. So don’t you dare say that this was all for nothing.”

He pulls you into a tight hug, tucking your head beneath his chin. You can hear the sound of his heart beat, beating only for you. It’s distracting enough for you to miss his whispered declaration: “I’m seriously gonna marry you someday.”

Minji climbs onto the couch, wedging herself between her parents. “If I don’t get accepted, I don’t have to go to school, right?”

The two of you peel away from the embrace, glaring at Minji, shaking your heads. “No, you have to go,” you simultaneously declare with stern conviction.

Minji huffs a sigh, looking downcast. But when her stomach grumbles, you effectively put an end to your pity party. You and Jeongguk drop everything, scurrying into the kitchen to prepare dinner for your precious daughter. She worked hard, and she did her very best. You all did.

…

Tucked away into the busy streets of Seoul, there’s a tiny little apartment on the second story filled with music and laughter.

While the water boils for the buckwheat noodles, Jeongguk watches over his precious family, reading the instructions for the sauce. All you need is a mixture of perilla oil, cham sauce, buldak sauce, buldak mayo, egg yolk, and a generous amount of furikake. But when you and Minji measure out everything to perfection, you cheer for one another as if you’ve made a meal worthy of praise from the world renown Gordon Ramsey.

When the noodles are ready, you all gather around the table and laugh to your heart's content. You fill your stomachs with starch, a heavy amount of spice, and plenty of love. You dote on one another, too distracted with the loving family you’ve created to notice anything outside of your little bubble.

This moment is yours, and yours alone. This is your happy place, and nobody can take it away from you. Not even the sound of the answering machine, echoing from the quaint living room.

“Due to your family’s impressive display of integrity at the institution’s interview, I would like to extend an offer to enroll Jeon Minji into the prestigious Hwa Yang Academy. Congratulations, and we hope to hear from you soon.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts fan fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fan fiction

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chuwenjie · 2 years ago

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Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse comes out later today so I wanted to write a post reflecting on my journey and experience working on this movie. So many people have supported me through this and I am so thankful to each and every one of you!

Text version of this post under the cut:

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse comes out tonight. It feels really weird to be typing that out right now. I worked on the movie as a visdev artist for the last 2.5 years, from 2020 to 2023. Long post incoming.

There are a lot of reasons why I'd consider this film to be one of the most ambitious animated films to ever be made. As artists, we were asked to push ourselves far beyond our comfort zones and do things that had never been done before in animation.

Every time we reached a point where most people would say "this must possibly be as creative and weird as it gets," our entire team of artists and animators would smash right through the ceiling. The driving direction for the visuals of the film was to push the limits of every single frame; to challenge audience expectations and make something truly original.

The best thing about this film was that there wasn't a single boring day working on this movie. The hardest thing about this film was also that there wasn't a single boring day working on this movie.

There were times while working on this where the imposter syndrome hit me hard. This was my first big movie, and what a hell of a first movie to get thrust into.

I came in only a few years out of school with absolutely no idea what the hell I was doing. I constantly feared that someone had made a mistake in bringing me onto this film, and I was going to let everyone down. There was a solid chunk of those 2.5 years where I wasn't sure if animation was the right path for me.

If there's anything I could tell my past self it would be this: there are so many people who love you and believe in you. There will be a time when you get to stand on the other side of it, look back on everything and see how far you came.

I'm still working on self-acceptance every day (it will be a lifelong struggle, I'm sure), but I'm glad I didn't give up on myself. I'm proud of myself and my contributions to this film, and I'm certain that this movie will continue to change and shape the animation landscape just as the first one did. That's truly a special feeling to have been a part of. I am so incredibly grateful to every single person who helped me along this journey.

Here come the thanks:

To the ENTIRE visdev & art crew- it's been an honor getting to work alongside each and every one of you. My jaw is literally still on the floor from seeing your incredible talent day after day.

I want to thank Tiffany and Felicia especially for being there for me through tough times- I admire and respect you both so much as artists, and even better than that, my life is greatly enriched for being able to call you my friends.

Thank you Patrick and Dean for taking chances on me, teaching me so much about art and what I'm capable of, and encouraging me along the way. To Aymeric, your art is one of the reasons I initially became interested in animation and you have been one of the kindest & most empathetic mentors I could ever have asked for.

I want to thank my wonderful parents for believing in me always and raising me into the person I am today: everything I do in life is to make you proud. To my brother Andrew who is perpetually awake at 3 AM when I need someone to talk to- thank you for always picking up the phone and making me laugh.

And finally to my partner Luke for making me grilled cheeses on all of the difficult days, for never getting sick of me even when all I would ever talk about was work, and for patiently and steadfastly loving me throughout this entire thing. I don't think I could've done it without you.

Starting tomorrow I will begin posting and sharing some of the art I made for this movie; I'm looking forward to sharing some of my personal favorites with you. I hope each and every one of you enjoys Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse when it hits theaters later today!

#visual development #visdev #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #gwen stacy

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the-offside-rule · 2 months ago

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Marcello Hernandez (SNL) - The Tour

Requested: I JUST SAW SOMEONE SAY THEY NEEDED MARCELLO HERNANDEZ IMAGINES AND I AGREE

Prompt: Marcello Hernandez x singer!reader

Warnings: nope

The atmosphere was electric as the sun began to set over the city, casting a warm glow over the arena. Y/N’s opening night was finally here, and Marcello could hardly contain his excitement. He stood backstage, a bundle of nerves and pride, knowing that his girlfriend was about to take the stage. As Y/N warmed up her vocals, Marcello peeked through the curtains, watching her. Her focus and determination radiated from her as she effortlessly hit each note, and he couldn’t help but admire her talent. She was a star, and tonight was her night. "Marcello!" She squealed as she saw him through the mirror. Her camera crew for her tour documentary turned to film him walking towards her. He approached her, heart racing, and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“Hey, baby.” He whispered, planting a soft kiss on her cheek. She turned, her eyes lighting up as she smiled. “This is the inspirarion behidn your favourite songs. This face right here.” She beamed as she looked into the camera, turning to plant a kiss on his cheek and leaving a lipstick stain on his skin. “I was worried you wouldn’t make it.” She said as he linked his fingers through hers.

“What made you think that? You literally wrote the whole tracklist about me.” He replied, holding her gaze. “Grammy incoming.” He grinned. They shared a sweet moment, knowing the journey they had both taken to get here. After a few more encouraging words, Marcello reluctantly pulled away, knowing she had to get ready. “I’ll be in the tent.” He said, feeling a mix of anticipation and pride. “Okay, I love you.”

As he made his way to the VIP area, he was greeted by fans excited to see him. “Marcello! Can we give you something?” A group of enthusiastic fans handed him colourful friendship bracelets, each one more vibrant than the last. Others offered him small gifts; handwritten notes, a keychain, and even a little plushie. He accepted them graciously, touched by their kindness. “Thank you so much! This means a lot.” He said, flashing them his trademark smile. Their support for Y/N, and their kindness to him made him really settle in. There were a lot of fans who didn't think Marcello and Y/N were a good pairing, no matter how much she sang about him,no how how much she posted about him, no matter how she said she loved him, they didn't like it, but it was moments like this; getting these gifts that made it all go away.

Settling into the VIP tent, Marcello’s heart raced as the lights dimmed. The crowd erupted into cheers, and he could barely contain his own excitement as Y/N stepped onto the stage, glowing under the spotlight. The music kicked in, and he found himself captivated by her performance. All throughout the show, he felt eyes on him, fans recording his every reaction. He watched her sing her heart out, and every time she pointed to him, a rush of warmth spread through him, turning his cheeks a shade of crimson. He couldn’t help but smile; their connection was palpable, and the audience could see it. Despite whispers and opinions from those who thought she could do better, it didn’t matter. Y/N was happy, and that was all he cared about.

As the concert neared its climax, Marcello’s heart raced with excitement and nerves. He knew he wanted to be right there for her when she finished. Just before the final song, he slipped out of the VIP tent and made his way to the side stage, wanting to be ready to catch her when she came off. The final song ended, and the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. Y/N took a moment, soaking it all in, and then, with her heart full, she spotted him. Their eyes locked, and the world around them faded away. She ran off the stage, a beaming smile on her face, and Marcello opened his arms wide.

As she reached him, they embraced tightly, the adrenaline of the night still coursing through them. “You were incredible!” He exclaimed, holding her close. “I couldn’t see you in the tent for that last song! I got so worried!” She said, pulling back to look into his eyes, her expression filled with gratitude and love.

Hand in hand, they walked away from the stage together, the cheers of her fans echoing behind them. In that moment, nothing else mattered. They were happy, and they had each other.

#marcello hernandez x reader #marcello hernandez x y/n #marcello hernandez x you #marcello hernandez imagine #marcello hernandez fluff #marcello hernandez snl #marcello hernandez

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bwskj · 4 months ago

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Keeping You Safe…

leon kennedy x reader r18 smut:

synopsis | leon kennedy, a government agent ordered to rescue you, keeps you safe while waiting for the storm to die down in an old abandoned cottage.

tags l backstory, rough, intimacy, cream🥧, soft

word count: 6763

fic is mine alone, no repost~

—— enjoy! ——

The sky is dark and thunder echoes from high above. With hands over your ears, you follow the steps of the agent who was sent to rescue you. You feel your body jolt every time he shoots or knifes one of the monsters along the way. Uneasy, you take a look behind you; thankfully, there’s nothing and nobody there.

The sound of static pulls you back to face ahead of you. Leon is holding a talking device close to one side of his face. “Yea, like I have any other choice. I’ll give you an update when I find one.” There’s a pause while the person on the other end replies. No matter how hard you try to pick out the sound, the strong wind and rustle of leaves overpower the caller’s voice. “I’ve been doing this job for years. You don’t have to tell me again… Copy that. Condor one out.”

Though shivering and slightly numb, you muster up some strength to close the small distance between you and Leon. “What’s happening?”, you ask.

“Chopper can’t land because of the incoming storm. We’ve gotta find some place to stay and wait. Come on, just stay close behind for now.”

Your stomach twists when you hear this. How long do you have to endure this?! How long do you have to be afraid? You watch as Leon carefully treads the path, hands gripping around his revolver, ready for any enemy. It surely is going to rain soon, you think, as you look up at the sky which seems even darker now than earlier.

Luckily, as the both of you slowly make your way down the path, there aren’t as many monsters needed to be dealt with. Most of them were found alone so Leon was able to easily sneak up behind them and stab them in the throat. Soon enough, your sights stumbled upon an old wooden and stone cottage. For a second, you feel relief. You’ve been running away from the monsters for a long while. You’ll finally be able to get some rest—try to, at least.

Leon tells you to stand still, and so you do, arms now wrapped around yourself. You watch as he goes around the house, checking to make sure there aren’t any monsters lurking nearby. When he’s done clearing the property, he goes up to the front porch. Once again positioning his handgun, he slowly opens the door to check the inside. The moment Leon’s body vanishes in the house, fear starts to bubble up within you. But it isn’t long until the door opens wider and Leon comes out.

“It’s safe. Come in.” He says, gesturing with a nudge of his head.

You don’t wait a second before you’re making your way up the porch and into the cottage. It’s definitely much warmer in here so you loosen the tight grip you have around yourself. There’s a musty smell to it but it’s probably because of the wet wood. There’s a table, a sofa chair, a chimney, a sink, a bed… everything a human would need to live decently, except there was no more human living in it.

“Make yourself at home,” Leon says, waving over to whatever still exists in the house.

“It’s not your home,” you say.

“Well, finders keepers.”

You sigh, which seems to help warm you up even more. Leon’s making some noises again and when you turn to look, he’s busy rummaging through his things on one of the work benches.

Walking over, you peer from behind him and watch as he starts mixing some ingredients together. “What’s that?” You ask.

“Medicinal herbs,” he replies, “If you mix them they become more potent and effective.”

He stuffs the mixed vials back into storage. Then, he takes some other stuff and starts forging them together. “And that?” You can’t help but ask.

Leon huffs a sigh. You think he might be getting annoyed, but he replies, “I’m making more ammo. In case, they get in here.”

You freeze up and from his peripheral, Leon notices. “And for the journey ahead,” he adds, “Don’t worry. I won’t let them hurt you.”

Unfortunately, his words don’t reassure you. Instead your stomach turns even more, now with a growing guilt. You’re helpless, just a maiden in need of rescuing.

“Do you think, maybe, you can give a me a gun to use?”

“Just keep doing your thing, princess. I don’t want to have to worry about being accidentally shot by the one im protecting.”

You grumble a, ‘im not that stupid’, under your breath but secretly you know Leon’s right to worry about that. And, princess? Really? You’re capable of handling yourself, to some extent. Surely, if only your opponent weren’t flesh eating monsters and cultish mutation-obsessed maniacs.

Leon turns to look at you after setting the ammunition he just made down on the table, “You should go get some rest. I’ll be awake so you can rest easy.”

Your eyes lift to look at his face. You’ve never been directly in front of him like this before. It’s also the first time you ever saw him clearly. You already knew he was a handsome man, just from his build alone, but even his face is good looking. Chiseled jaw, tall nose, and with sharp piercing eyes. Silver, almost overgrown, strands of hair frame the sides, which was probably why you never certainly saw his face. You flinch, spotting the still open gashes and scratches on his face.

“You’re hurt,” you start as your hand reaches up to his face. But Leon grabs your wrist, stopping you from going any further.

“I’m fine. I’ll be healed sooner than you think.” He lets go off your arm, but your limb still hangs in the air. Leon brings his attention around the room, looking for something that you can rest on. Again, you watch as he searches through drawers and cupboards until he finds a soft piece of cloth—for sleeping or for the table, you’re not sure.

“You can lay on these,” he points to some rice bags in the corner, “and use this to keep yourself warm,” he hands you the cloth he found.

“Thanks,” you manage to say. The cloth in your hands doesn’t feel as dusty as you thought it would. It’s probably because it was kept shut in a cupboard. Might be even better to hide in a cupboard forever rather than face those monsters again, you think.

You walk over to the pile of empty rice sacks in the corner of the room. Those look dusty. You look back over at Leon but he’s back to being busy with his stuff again. As you crouch down and plop yourself onto the floor by the bags, you start to feel the exhaustion truly set in. Your feet and legs burned in soreness. Your shoulders drooped and your eyelids grew heavy. You lay on the sacks and you aren’t even able to fully cover yourself with the cloth before you fall into a deep sleep.

——

The monsters are heading towards you. And that powerful man, floating, he’s coming from the opposite way. And what are those? More of them screeching with what looks like tentacles sprouting from their heads.

You run, run as you fast as your legs can take you. But they are feeling sore and your heart can’t seem to catch up. You have to run, but you can’t breathe well. As you stumble, you take one look at your arm which terrifies you even more to your wits end. Your veins are turning a deathly black. It’s the mold.

“yn!”

Quickly, your head turns. “Leon!” You cry out.

Where is he? Where’s Leon? Your head feels like it’s spinning as you try to look around the fog and the hoards of scary things coming your way. His voice calling out to you echoes in every direction. You can’t find him.

Until you do, and he appears almost entirely consumed by the same mold as the one creeping up your arm. And all of a sudden, the monsters aren’t right behind you. They’re charging straight towards Leon, running right past you with a speed so quick that wind almost knocks you over. You know that he can no longer run.

“Wait, no! Leon!” Your cry is louder, clearly ringing in your ears this time, and your eyes snap awake. Breathing fast and heavy, your hands try to reach for your face but somebody else’s beat you to it. Leon is sitting next to you with a grip on your arm with one hand while the other is muffling out the sound of your voice.

“Hey, hey, shh it’s a dream. It’s a dream.” Your eyes twitch around until it finds the surprisingly soft gaze in Leon’s own pair as he holds you and your face in his hands.

As you quiet down, Leon slowly removes his hand from over your mouth. You start to gasp and hiccup, feeling tears welling in your eyes. “Leon…” you say and you throw your arms around his neck because you thought he had died just seconds ago. “You’re here.” You try to sniffle up your tears because you don’t want them to fall and wet Leon’s shirt.

“Of course, I’m here.” Leon says, pushing past his surprise at your sudden action of skinship. His arms which hung awhile in the air in hesitation, begin to softly pat and rub your back in an attempt to console you.

You hiccup some more, burying your face into Leon’s shoulder. There’s no way his shirt isn’t getting a little damp. His big hands rubbing on your back feel nice, and you can already feel your heart rate calming down.

“Don’t you ever think about yourself?” You mumble against him.

“What are you talking about?”

“In my dream… you were going to die. You had no chance. You were dead.”

You feel his chest rise and fall beneath you. “That’s not gonna happen. It’s my job to keep you safe until I get you home. I can’t do that if I’m dead.”

You pull your teary face away from his shoulder, looking straight into his determined eyes. Your heart skips a beat, you think. “You’re going to stay alive for the sake of this mission.”

“Yes, I don’t plan on failing any of my missions.”

You chew on the inside of your lip and stare at him before saying, “Promise you won’t die. Or get fatally injured. Or injured at all.”

Leon frowns, wondering where the hell these words are coming from. “I can’t promise that. What i can promise is that I’m going to get you home, no matter at what cost.”

This time it’s you who frowns. He can’t seem to stop thinking about fulfilling his mission and keeping you safe. But what about him? How is he faring with all these wounds and having to worry about himself and you at the same time?

Leon notices your stare spacing out so he knows you’re thinking about something. Are you still not reassured? “Try to get some more rest. The rain hasn’t stopped,” he says.

It’s only now you notice the strong pitter

patter of rain outside. The wind blows as equally intense. “I can’t,” you say, because you’re scared the nightmare will happen again and you’re scared that when you wake up, the nightmare would have come true while you were sleeping.

You stare at your hand that is resting close to Leon’s chest, now only realizing how close the two of you are. It’s been a while with the both of you like this and Leon’s hand is still on your back. Does he have no intention of pulling away? Suddenly, your heart feels warm, not only because of Leon’s body heat creeping over to you but because he most definitely cares. He’s intent on keeping you safe.

“Thank you, Leon… for doing all this.” You position your head on his chest this time. Before he could open his mouth to tell you that it’s his job, you continue, “I know my father paid you to do this, but still… it must be difficult.”

You feel him breathe deep again. “You’re welcome,” he says, and you smile softly to yourself.

For a while, the both of you sit still and close. The rain continues to pour outside but you both can hear each other’s breathing. It’s so calming you can almost forget the nightmare you just had. You take a large breath in; Leon smells like dirt—the good kind. You watch, hypnotized, as your finger draws small imaginary circles on Leon’s shirt. When falling out of the trance, you shift your head up to check on how Leon is doing.

He isn’t looking at you or particularly anywhere. His expression is the same cold one he usually wears, but he appears less guarded and distressed. The cuts on his face are still open but he’s wiped off the dried blood and dirt surrounding them. He huffs out another deep sigh. You lightly frown before saying, “Are you comfortable like this?”

Leon’s gaze flicks over to you. You realize you’re so close to him you can even notice the slight twitch at the front of his brow.

He clears his throat, takes his hand off your back, and moves you off him. “Rest. I should get back to keeping watch.”

He pushes himself off the floor leaving you on the ground. Not even a few seconds of him away from you and you feel a shiver run through you. “Wait, don’t go!” You say, grabbing onto his leg because that’s the farthest you could reach. “Did you not like it?”

Facing you, he looks at your hand grasping his pant leg and then back to your concerned face. “I need to stay alert for our safety.”

Your eyes fall to the ground, but you don’t let go of him just yet. You look at his pants and catch sight of his pockets. “Can’t you just keep watch while you’re beside me. You have a gun in your pocket anyways.”

“Gun? I don’t have any with me right now. They’re all on the workbench.”

Huh? You think, and your head snaps up to look at him… then down to his pockets. That is not a… gun?

“I’ll just be by the door,” Leon says and he starts to move to step away. You’re clinging on strong, however, and you try again, “No! Just bring a gun with you here and stay here. Please, I still don’t feel safe being by myself.”

“I will only be a few feet away,” Leon states, like that isn’t obvious.

“Still…” you mumble, “you know what i mean.”

Leon sighs for the nth time and gives you a disapproving stare before saying, “You’re really a princess, aren’t you?”

You open your mouth to argue but Leon tugs his leg away (apparently you weren’t holding strong enough), grabs a rifle gun and revolver from the workbench, and tosses it on the floor beside you. In seconds, he’s back on the ground with his back leaned on the wall. “Better?” He says with those sharp eyes again.

You feel a blush heat up your cheeks. You didn’t think he’d actually give in… and without much argument. You stayed sitting upright, however. You aren’t sure if you could just resume the position the both of you were in earlier. Leon’s squinting out the window on the opposite end of the room. He sure is keeping watch.

Then a shiver runs up your body again. It must be the rain making the air so cold. You take your makeshift blanket and put it around yourself, eyeing Leon as he grabs his weapons and starts pulling some levers and fitting pieces of metal in.

With him busy, you keep on looking. At first, you were locked on the sight of his arms, a vein peeking out whenever he exerts a certain amount of force. But then your eyes wander and it lingers at the thing you saw in his pants. That isn’t a gun, you remind yourself, and you feel a little bit of warmth wave over you for a second. It’s huge… or is it because he’s wearing tight pants. Something faintly pulses inside you and you bite on your cheek, knowing what it means.

You shiver again. The cold isn’t being fought off. You press your hands together, trying to eliminate the chill in your fingers.

Leon, noticing this, says, “Are you okay?” There he goes being concerned again.

“Yea, just…” your words trail off as Leon puts down his weapons and reaches for your arm under the cloth. His fingers run up and down your arm as he inspects for any sign of mold. You blush as his fingertips tingle on your skin. His hands are quite big too, probably almost twice as big as yours.

He looks up at your face. “Do you feel sick? You’re face is red,” his hand moves to check the temperature on your face. It’s warm alright. He takes your chin and moves your head up and around.

“What are you doing?” You say, finding it a bit too hard to keep a calm composure.

“Just checking,” He says.

He won’t seem to stop pushing your face in different directions, checking on and behind your neck, so you grab to stop his arm.

Something twitches on his face in what seems like surprise. “You’re cold,” he says, and he in turn takes your hand off his arm. He encloses both your hands around his, and almost immediately it warms your fingers up.

How is he so warm? He doesn’t even have a jacket on. “Don’t want you getting hypothermia,” he says, and you feel like scoffing. Great, another way you could die.

Just as he says this, you shiver for the third time, and you wonder if he noticed. Even if he did, he doesn’t say anything and sits still holding your hands in his. A shiver for the fourth time comes by, then, all of a sudden, Leon lets go, and he puts his arm around you to pull you close to him.

“Leon!” You exclaim in surprise.

“Just stay still if you want to warm up,” he says. With one hand wrapped around you rubbing heat, he fixes your blanket, making sure it’s covering you well, over your head, shoulders, and half your face. When he’s done, you’re snuggled up under the cloth and in Leon’s arms. For the first time in a while, you’re so comfortable.

Like this, you feel even more grateful for Leon. It’s like every part of you is warm now: your heart, your face, and your body. Leon’s still soothing you when he asks, “How is this?”

“Better,” you mumble into the cloth hovering over your mouth.

Leon sighs, and you think it sounds like one of relief. This would be the perfect time to fall asleep again, but for some reason your eyes won’t stay closed. Looking off in front of you, your sight is directed towards the floor, and how conveniently (lol) at Leon’s crotch. Is it just you or did it grow even bigger?

After a while more of staring, you come to the assumption that he is… hard. No man just exists with that big of a…

Leon clears his throat, causing u to jolt a little. You shift your head to look up at him. You seem to be looking up at him a lot of the time. The blanket on your head falls out of place.

You make eye contact, but you can’t tell what Leon is thinking. The both of you hold your gaze until it’s been too long and a tension snaps you both out of it. Your eyes fall back down, and you think… maybe, if he would like…

“Leon,” you say, and your hand thats all warmed up peeks out of the cover of your blanket. It hovers lightly somewhere on Leon’s chest. “Could I, maybe, show you how thankful I am?” Your finger lands on his chest, and slowly, cautiously, you start tracing a random path down his torso. His stomach softly rises and falls.

You don’t dare to look up to see Leon’s reaction just yet. But surely he knows what you mean, right? And you know he can stop you if he doesn’t want this.

“Show me?” You hear his voice, low, almost like he’s hesitant to speak.

You get to the end of his shirt, your fingers lightly picking at his belt. The bulge in his pants is only inches away from your touch. Your heart beat is speeding up with every second that passes in which Leon hasn’t pushed you away.

Mustering up courage, you pull your face up to meet his eyes again. Leon is staring back, and you try desperately to tell him what you mean with your own. You notice Leon shift his jaw, exhaling a breath through parted lips. You bite down on your lower lip as you start to feel that pulse again. He still isn’t moving away.

It’s now or never. You push yourself up with the hand on Leon’s belt, and it doesn’t take more than a second for you to lean in and put your lips on his. Your nerves freaking out at what you just did almost makes you yourself pull away but then Leon presses his mouth willingly onto yours and kisses you back.

He’s found a hold on your lower back as the two of you are kissing, the pulse inside growing stronger when you sense Leon’s obvious desire for your lips. His breaths in between every kiss is causing an electric feeling to run across your skin. It’s exciting you more that it really should. Well, this all shouldn’t be happening in the first place, but how can you stop yourself now.

Like Leon magically heard your thoughts, he pulls himself away. You guess it’s because he’s thinking exactly about that. “This,” his chest rises and falls quick as he tries to catch his breath, “We shouldn’t be… your father is not going to like this—“

“Of course he won’t,” you quickly say, “But why would we even tell him.” You don’t want to make it out to be but you’re desperate to feel him again.

“You’re my client.” He says with a frown. Who is he trying to convince?

“No, my dad is your client,” You reply, “I’m… I’m the one you’re trying to keep safe.” You go to hold his face in your hands, meanwhile his stare is still unsure, so you say, “And I need you to make me feel safe… right now.”

You can feel his hand scratching lightly on your back. With the way he was kissing you, he must want this as much as you do.

“You feel unsafe,” he asks but it sounds like a statement.

“Very…” you almost whisper as you slowly lean back in. His hand on your back squeezes you lightly. “So kiss me”

There’s a spark in his eyes before he does, closing the gap in between both your lips. This time his kiss is stronger, as if he doesn’t wish to think about anything else anymore. He pulls you in even closer and his hands feeling you up brings a good shiver up your spine. As the both of you move to respond to one another’s lips, the blanket becomes a bother so Leon rips it away. Your skin is now only separated with the cloth of your fitted blouse.

You try to push yourself closer because he tastes exceptionally good and you want more. When you start to get up on your knees, still kissing him and playing with the hair at the back of his nape, you feel Leon hooking an arm below your thigh to lift you over and on his lap.

“Leon,” you gasp because you’re sitting on him, and you can feel his rock hard dick beneath you.

“Don’t worry,” Leon says as he starts to move his kisses to and under your jawline, “I’ll keep you safe.”

You can’t help but lean your head back so Leon can kiss you even more. Your fingers are intertwined with his silver locks just above his nape. You can’t stop either from starting to shift against him, especially when Leon’s teeth grazes your skin. He knows what he’s doing, you think as you feel yourself flush in warmth, because as aggressive as he was from the start, his touch on you is also gentle and careful.

Leon’s hand slips under the back of your blouse, inching towards the clasp of your bra. It rests on top of it and you anticipate it to come loose, but it doesn’t and you look down at Leon, though all you see is hair.

Thinking he’s wary, you tell him, “You can… take it off.”

That’s all Leon needs to hear and he unclasps your bra with a tug and flick. Cool air seeps onto the skin under your shirt and you don’t even have time to gasp before Leon’s got hold of your breast.

“Ah, Leon,” you say, because Leon’s big hand feels warm and perfect on your cool chest. He squeezes and his mouth on your neck kisses you like he has to make sure he’s got every spot.

You can’t hold back any longer and your intently moving your hips against his big boner. There’s a low growl from Leon and you feel the vibrations of the sound on your skin. He grabs you from behind your neck and puts his lips back on your mouth. When he caresses the surrounding skin around your nipple, a louder moan accidentally slips from your lips. With your mouth opening, Leon takes advantage, trying to kiss deeper and on your tongue.

Noticing that you particularly liked that, Leon continues to play with the center of your breast. You’re breaths grew more ragged the gentler he touched you. When your lips disconnect to take a moment to breathe, you can’t take any more of Leon’s shallow teasing.

Grabbing onto Leon’s wrist under your shirt, you push his hand onto your chest, your nipple sitting in between his 2 longest fingers. “More,” you breath out.

You gasp as Leon listens, touching you there more purposely. Your back straightens as you try to push your chest closer to his hand while your clothed cunt still rubs on his erection. With eyes closed, pleasure courses through your whole body and you can already feel yourself dripping wet in your pants. You want to get them off.

You open your eyes, and look at Leon. His gaze is locked on you while you breathe heavily and rock back and forth on him. Somehow, him looking at you like this made you feel even better, and even when you close your mouth, you can barely stop the moans from sounding out.

“Ha..” Leon exhales, his hand that found it’s way to your waist squeezes the side of your stomach. You only notice now how his own breathing is rough too. He’s definitely feeling good.

“Leon,” you call his name again because just saying it alone feels amazing.

“yn.” hearing your name in that breathy voice of his makes your stomach flip. You feel Leon put pressure on your waist, likely trying to bring you closer to his dick. This is enough to drive you crazy.

“Leon, I can’t,” you say, “I need…” you don’t know how to say it.

“What yn?” Leon lightly puts his face in your neck again. You feel him breathe you in.

“I… I need you inside me,” hearing yourself actually say it out loud felt insane.

Leon exhales, “Take this off?” He runs his finger in between the rim of your pants and your soft tummy skin.

“Mm,” you move to work quickly with your zipper but you can’t get the button out. Leon helps you with that and you kneel up a bit to get your pants off.

“Is it cold?” Leon says as you sit back down, his big hands running over your exposed thighs.

“No, it’s okay.” You kiss him before he could worry even more.

Leon gladly reciprocates, trying to get his tongue in your mouth again. Leon’s hand on your thigh moves it’s way to your front. He softly circles your clit over your wet panties and you moan, feeling more of your juice spill out.

You grind, this time seeking more pleasure from his hand. “More,” you whisper on his lips.

Leon scoffs as he pulls away to look at you. “Needy, princess.” Surprised, you’re about to say something in retort, but then he slips his hand down your panties and his fingers start touching your bare pussy, and you forget what you want to say.

“You’re so wet,” Leon says under his breath. At this point, you think you might actually go crazy. Your moans start to sound more like needy whimpers the more Leon lingers only outside your pussy lips. You push your cunt down onto his hand and he knows you can’t wait any longer.

Leon is immediately able to put two fingers in. You gasp as it shoots right at your g spot. “Ah fuck,” you let out as Leon starts moving his fingers in a circle inside you. Gripping onto his broad shoulders, you steady yourself as he then pulls his fingers out before pushing it up inside you again. As he finger fucks you like this, you can’t control your moans, and you’re quite out of it that you don’t realize Leon focused on your lewd expressions and subtly rubbing himself outside his pants with his free hand.

The longer he fucks you the more you feel your muscles relaxing, and soon, even clenching against his fingers didn’t make you feel as filled up as you like. Your g spot feels good with every thrust of his fingers but you know you need more.

“Leon,” you ride on his fingers and go to kiss his neck this time. “It’s not enough,” you mumble, because you might be starting to feel shy.

“I need you… inside me,” your hand feels behind you until it meets his hand which has been palming his own boner. The cloth on this part is damp from precum.

Leon, alarmed, pulls you off his neck to look at you. “I… don’t have contraception.”

“I don’t care,” you say, and it’s mostly true. How do you tell him it’s even better for you when it’s raw and pounding inside you? How do you tell him you might be fine with risking it just to know how it feels to have his hard and big dick filling you up.

“This isn’t…” Leon starts, and you know he’s trying so hard to hold back.

“Please,” you say, giving him your most persuasive pair of eyes as you start softly palming his hard on in his pants, “Please fuck me.”

“You always get what you want, don’t you.”

You shyly look away because he’s right, being a daughter of a high official, you’re used to things going your way. You’re not that surprised when Leon starts unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants. You blush as you watch him do so underneath you, flushed as red and as excited.

“I’m going to fuck you then since you want it so bad,” he says and he lifts your body up with one hand, surprising you with how easily he does so, before slipping your panty to the side and positioning his raw cock right at your entrance.

You don’t have time to say anything as he helps you fit his cock inside. You can only gasp and shake when you realize the size and length of what was about to fuck you.

“Fuck,” Leon moans and you say “shit” as well because how the hell does it feel like there’s three fingers inside you. When you push down and his dick hits the end of your pussy, you exclaim and Leon has to put his hand over your mouth again.

“Quiet,” Leon shudders, “They might hear us.”

Suddenly, you remember the reality you are in. You’re not fucking Leon in a safe place. You were just running from mutated monsters hours ago. What would happen if one of them came in here while this was happening? Your heart rate speeds up at the thought, but you can’t keep it there as you get distracted every time Leon’s dick hits deep inside you again.

You continue this slow and steady pace of riding his cock. Just a bit more up and downs and you know you’ll get used to it. You breathe shakily as his thick member stimulates the nerves on your walls.

“You’re squeezing tight,” Leon exhales.

“N-no,” you stutter, “you’re just big.”

“Are you okay?” He asks in between heavy breaths, sweeping a strand of hair away from your face.

You nod, “I’m okay. It… It feels good, Leon.”

Just like you thought, it’s starting to become easier along the way, and before you know it, you were heading towards bouncing up and down his dick. As much as you try to keep your moans down, it was difficult since Leon is filling you even better than you thought he would. Every time you think he’s hit the deepest part, the next stroke goes even deeper. Though after a while, your pace starts to slow down. The position you are in is starting to bother you.

“Leon.”

“Do you need help?” he asks. Can he actually read your mind? You give him a nod and he grabs you by your waist again. “Lean on me,” he tells you. You lean forward wrapping your arms around his neck before kissing him softly.

Leon starts moving on his own, pushing his whole length into you. At first its slow, and you can keep most of your voice down. But he’s gradually speeding up, making sure to not leave any feeling of emptiness in your cunt while also directly hitting your gspot. It must be the position you two are in. The lack of rubber between your parts made Leon’s movements feel smooth and hot. Is this what heaven feels like?

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you mutter under your breath as he fucks you hard while squeezing and spreading your ass apart. It’s so good you can feel your eyes rolling back. It’s so much better than when you ride it on your own. Leon accompanies your moans with soft grunts and sharp exhales of air.

As you feel your muscles clench on his dick, you know you’re going to cum soon. Leon lifts up your shirt and puts his head under, finding your nipple and sucking on it. Caught off guard, you quickly cover your mouth with your own hand, muffling out the sound of a lewd moan.

“Fuck, Leon, I’m gonna cum,” you say in a loud whisper. Picturing in your mind how Leon’s dick pounding inside you would look like pushes you even more to the edge of an orgasm.

Hearing this Leon sucks and kisses on you harder, one hand going under to play with your other breast before going down to press below your stomach. Seconds later, you’re moaning messily into the palm of your hand when you orgasm all over Leon’s lap. As your legs quiver, you grab on tightly to Leon, the pleasure overwhelming you.

“Ha… Leon,” you say. Leon’s face appears from under your shirt, lips a little swollen and hair ruffled up. In what seems like a blink of an eye, Leon picks you up again, this time off his dick. He grabs both your arms with one hand and turns you around, before knocking you over to lay on your hands and knees.

“Hey! L-Leon!” You exclaim, as he pulls your panties down and shoves his cock back inside. “Ah!” You throw an arm over your mouth to shut yourself up.

“That’s right. Be a good girl and stay quiet.” Leon says, looming over you with every new thrust. “I’m not done.”

Just like that, pleasure shoots up through your cunt again. So good you can somehow feel it in your stomach. Your cum made fucking even easier and you can hear the slap of his skin and the clang of his belt against you. ‘Fuckk, Leon’ you drawl against your arm, saliva heavily wetting it.

Leon groans as he grabs on to the back of your neck. At this point, you’re not even sure if he remembers he’s fucking a person. But even if it’s for his own pleasure, you feel like your mind is in a haze. Dizziness passes by the harder he fucks you and you don’t even remember how many times you’ve come in the past 3 minutes. As far as you know, he hasn’t even slept. How does he still have this much energy?! In the back of your mind there’s an intrusive hought that thinks maybe you shouldn’t care anymore. Fuck those monsters. All you want is to let yourself freely express how good you feel.

“Fuck.. ah,” Leons voice is bordering on whimpering. You can feel him getting close by how hot it feels inside your pussy. “Shit.”

“Leon, nghmm… cum inside, please inside..” you’re a mumbling mess.

Leon unsure of what he heard, pulls you up from the floor by a big tug on your hair. He presses your back onto his chest and holds you as he slows his pace a bit.

“What did you say? You want me to cum inside?” Leon says right next to your ear. “Is that what you want? Is that why you were so desperate to be fucked raw? You don’t care what daddy will think, don’t you. You don’t mind if I cum inside and get you pregnant?”

Leon’s sudden and harsh attitude is so unexpected it turns you on drastically and you feel like cumming again. “I-I never…,” he squeezes your breast again as he kisses your shoulder.

Father will understand, you faintly think.

“Yes, Leon, please cum inside. Fill me up. I need it so bad.”

Leon turns you over for another time and lays your back on the floor. He interlocks his fingers with yours and pins your hand down by your head leaning in to kiss you again. You don’t think you’ll ever get sick of this.

Leon’s thrusts speed up back to his usual pace. He’s panting and groaning in between kisses. Eventually, his pleasure intensifies to a point that he cant even properly kiss you anymore. You cup his face with your free hand and look up at the sight of Leon’s flustered and pleasure filled expression.

“Gonna cum,” he says and he presses down on your stomach again. You gasp as whats left of another orgasm flows through you. You make sure to keep your eyes open to watch Leon as he finishes. When he does, his body jerks and he lets out a couple more short moans. You let out one of your own which merges into a sigh as you feel his member twitch inside yours and a warm liquid settles.

Leon slowly pulls himself out and plops down on the floor. He’s catching his breath. Meanwhile, you lay on the ground in a euphoric state, staring off at the ceiling as you feel his ejaculation drip out of you.

All you hear is soft rain from outside when static suddenly enters the air. “Hello, condor one, are you there? I repeat, condor one, do you hear me.”

Leons head flings towards the workbench. Scrambling to his feet and almost losing his balance, he tries to stuff his dick back into his pants before grabbing the talking device that was speaking.

“Yes, I’m here,” he says with a clear of his throat.

“Where have you been?! I’ve been trying to contact you for 30 minutes now!” The caller’s voice is so angry you can hear her from where you’re laying. “Please tell me you still have Blue Lily.”

“Yes, she’s here. We just… had a little trouble, but we’re fine,” the volume of the callers voice fades out, “and i’m fine, thanks for asking by the way,” he continues with a sarcastic tone.

“Okay, got it. We’ll be there as soon as possible… alright! 10 minutes… 7… Condor one out.”

A beep sounds and Leon puts the device down. “Come on, princess. I know you’re tired but aftercare has got to wait. We’ve got to get you out of here.”

——

a/n: thank u for reading! im still getting better at r18 fics so leave ur comments/criticisms <33

#leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #smut #leon kennedy smut #x reader #x yn #leon resident evil #leon x reader #resident evil smut #oneshot #fanfic

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shhhsecretsideblog · 5 months ago

Note

7 for the prompts, maybe a car birth?

I love a car birth, it’s such a good trope! Thanks for the request. Apparently my brain isn’t capable of simply writing a regular car birth, had to add a little twist- it’s not technically a car. Enjoy :) [3k words, fpreg, clothing birth] Prompt: “I don’t think the baby is gonna wait that long…”

We All Scream For Ice Cream

My contractions had started this morning and after three kids perhaps I should have known better. Yes they were consistent but they weren’t strong and were completely manageable. I’d called my parents to tell them my labour had started and they came to collect the kids so I didn’t have to worry about watching over them as I laboured. I spent the morning pottering around the house doing laundry and some cleaning, working through the steady waves whenever they washed over me. But after a while I started getting frustrated being inside the same four walls; I needed some air and space. It was the height of the summer holidays and you were up and out early for work to maximise our income during your busiest time of year. I knew you’d only taken the ice cream truck to the local park, you stopped going too far afield as I got closer to the end of this pregnancy - you wanted to be close in case I needed you to come home. I decided a nice walk through the park would do me good and would help with the contractions. Plus it gave me a chance to see you and let you know baby number four was on the way.

The breeze felt wonderful on my hot and clammy skin as I waddled my way down the residential streets cupping the underside of my heavy baby bump. If I pressed into the stretched skin just above my pubic bone I could feel the head of the baby sitting extremely low, perfectly in position and ready to be born. I was excited to tell you I was in labour again, maybe you could finish work early today and come help me through it this afternoon when it would inevitably ramp up.

I suffered a couple of contractions on my way to the park but they didn’t phase me - after three births I was all too familiar with the tightening and contracting of my muscles. I simply stopped, bracing my hands against a neighbours fence or a nearby street lamp, and swayed and hummed my way through them, letting the waves wash over me.

By the time I reached the park I was getting pretty hot and sweaty, but it was a warm day in the middle of summer and I was 9 months pregnant. Overheating was just par for the course. I saw your truck parked on the opposite side of the field next to the kids play area. I never thought this park was very big but right now, with my labouring belly, the journey across the green seemed a mile long. I sat on a bench to catch my breath before making the journey, watching you hand ice creams to all the kids and families that filled the park. You had such a sparkle in your eye as you handed the ice cream to its recipient, seeing the glee and excitement in each and every child’s face when they got their summery treat.

A contraction tore me away from watching you, its sharp and insistent pain coursing through my hips and legs. “Hoooooo… take it easy there…” I softly said, rubbing the large circumference of my belly as the baby kicked and shifted even lower.

A stranger walking by asked if I was okay, but with the look of panic in their face I told them it was just a kick. I didn’t get the feeling they’d handle it well if they knew a labouring mother was out here on her own in the park. After the contraction was over I awkwardly pushed myself up, cupping my low belly, and started walking over the luscious green grass. A long queue had formed for ice cream, you were busy rushing around the truck getting lolly’s out of freezers or adding sprinkles to soft whips. You didn’t have the time to notice my approach.

I thankfully didn't have a contraction as I waddled across the park but I could feel one coming as I approached the truck. I hurried past the line and nipped behind the vehicle, only just managing to make it away from the crowd before the intensity peaked. I quickly planted both palms against the truck and leaned into the contraction, taking deep long breaths, in and out, bracing through the pain and breathing the baby down. My hips were circling instinctively and I was glad no one was on this side of the ice cream truck as it would be very obvious I was in labour.

I waited for the line of customers to go down, riding out a few contractions during that time, before I rounded the corner and stood in front of the window.

“What can I get- Honey! What are you doing here?” Your eyes lit up and you broke into a wide smile, surprised but happy to see me.

“I thought I’d come and say hi.” I said, one hand rubbing my tight stomach.

“Where are the kids?” You asked, seeing that I was alone.

“With my parents.” I answered with a knowing smile, waiting to see if you’d put the pieces together.

“With your…. Wait, are you-?” Your eyebrows raised and eyes widened as you looked directly to my very pregnant belly.

“Yup, I’m in labour. Contractions started this… this m-morning…. Hoooooo” Another wave creeps up on me and I’m forced to grab on to the little shelf at the bottom of the window, hands gripping tight as the pain lances through my body.

You jumped out the back door of the van and were standing behind me in an instant. You held my hips and squeezed hard, pressing into the pressure points that would ease the pain, knowing exactly what I needed from our previous births. I let out a soft and grateful moan as I relaxed back into you.

“Oh honey, you could have just called, you know.” You laughed and kissed the back of my neck.

“I like seeing your reaction… hoooo…. when I tell you I’m in labour.” I manage to say, though the pains were starting to make it difficult to speak.

“What, so you can see me panic?! You’re evil, you know that.” You joked affectionately.

When the contraction faded you released your grip and I turned around, your arms quickly wrapping around me.

“Baby number four eh. So what was your plan after coming to tell me?” You said in my ear, giving me a squeeze.

“I figured I’d go back home, and then call you when things get more serious.”

“How long do you reckon for this one then?”

“I dunno. It’s definitely progressing faster than the others.”

“How fast?” You arched an eyebrow and looked down at me with concern.

Before I could answer, another contraction struck. My hands laced around your neck and I buried my face in your chest, unable to contain the groan from my throat.

“Jeeze, hun, that was quick. It's okay I’ve got you.” You added, feeling my knees dip slightly. “Just ride the wave, deep breaths.”

I couldn’t speak, consumed by the heavy weight that was sinking lower and lower and lower…. My hips circled and bounced, my fingers tightly gripping each wrist as I practically hung off your sturdy frame. Your hands were on my ribs holding me steady. Groaning rumbled my throat, getting deeper as the pressure in my pelvis skyrocketed, and the noise ended with a grunt.

“Fuck, babe - was that a push?” You asked with panic, surprised at just how deep into labour I was.

“No…. I don’t think so but- hoooooo- there’s so much pressure. Baby feels really low-oooohhhhh!” I whimpered.

“Have your waters broken?” You asked and I shook my head against you in response.

“I don’t think this labour is going to last as long as you think, judging by those sounds.” You warned, your thumbs affectionately rubbing my ribs while you held me steady.

“Hooooo…. I swear it wasn’t this b-bad when I left the house…. Feels like it’s come out of nowhere.” I say, feeling the pain dull enough for me to stand on my own and release my arms from your neck.

“Well they do say it gets quicker with each birth. Right, I think we need to get you back home. Then we can pick up the hospital bag, jump in the car and drive over there.”

“I… I’m not sure I’m going to be able to walk back home…” I admit, holding my bump with both hands, the weight and pressure felt constant even without a contraction.

“Okay… erm… I’ll take us back in the truck?” You suggest hesitantly.

“What? No way. There’s only a driver's seat - what am I supposed to do - get in the back with the soft serve?” I gripe with a roll of my eyes.

“It’s only a few minutes back to our house. You got any better ideas?”

Another contraction steals any response I could make and I’m suddenly hunched over, hand bracing my thighs, and groaning behind closed lips. You offer your arms as support but I wave them away, the combination of heat & pressure overwhelming, I didn’t want to be touched. Instead you jumped in the truck and I could hear you banging around, closing freezer drawers and locking cabinets, but it was all background noise to me. My heartbeat thumped in my ears, the pressure between my thighs was worsening making me grunt. My fingers gripped my legs and I pushed my hips backwards, my body acting solely on instinct. Before the wave of this contraction was over I felt something give, my legs squatting, and a puddle started to form at my feet.

“Ooooohhhhh honey- my waters have broken…” I grunt out. Gosh, I could feel the baby’s head on my cervix and I really started to worry about how long we actually had before our fourth child made their appearance.

“We need to get going, babe.” You said jumping out the van and coming over to support me. We waited for the contraction to fade and you then helped me crawl into the truck. I was glad to be wearing my maternity leggings and a thin top; it made manoeuvring into the vehicle much easier than if I was in one of my summer dresses.

“Right, I’ve locked everything away so it all should stay put on the drive, you won’t get covered in ice cream don’t worry.” You try to joke as I huff and puff my way into the cramped truck. “Why don’t we get you sitting down on the floor..?” You suggest, climbing in after me to try to help me get comfortable.

“Ooohhhh no… can’t sit down. Baby too low… fuck.” Crawling on my hands and knees I settle near the large rectangular freezer that was directly under the window booth. Staying on my knees I sit back on my heels and rest my arms on my legs, my bump sitting between my widened thighs. “I’ll just… stay like this. Drive carefully though…”

“Of course I will, precious cargo.” You said with a smile before giving me a kiss.

You shut the back doors of the ice cream truck behind you when you left, ran around to the driver’s seat and quickly started the engine. “Hold on sweetie, we’ll be home soon.” You said, putting it into gear and setting off.

We barely made it out of the park and onto the tarmac road before the next contraction struck, and without my waters it soon became apparent just how close this baby was to being born. Leaning forward and grasping the top ridge of the freezer in front of me, I tried to breath through the building pressure that was pulling and squeezing my insides. My moaning was instinctual at this point, my body’s way of riding the crashing waves of pain. Whether it was the motion of the truck or my kneeling position, but something triggered a need to push. At the end of each groan I could feel my body bearing down.

“H-how long to get to the h-hospital once we get h-home?” I stutter.

“Hospital is about 35 minutes from our house. Why?”

“I don’t think the baby is going to wait that long…. Hooooo…” I breathe, hips lifting and rocking in circles just above my feet. “Go straight to hospital, don’t go via home….”

“But we don’t have any of the stuff, for you or the baby?” You question, but still follow the instruction immediately altering our journey.

“Doesn’t-matter-nnngghhhhhh!” I gruff out before lowing deeply, bearing down again, my knuckles turning white with my grip on the freezer.

“Are you pushing??!!!” You shout.

“Can’t-help-it-”

“Shall I pull over?” You panic at hearing the familiar sounds of me pushing a baby down.

“No! Just- hospital- now!” My head dips as the wave ends and I try to catch my breath in between contractions.

We were still navigating the residential streets so thankfully weren’t going fast, but that meant we were still a way off from the hospital outside of town. My knees wide on the floor and arms stretching up gripping the fridge were the only thing keeping my body and my mind grounded. I closed my eyes, taking long deep breaths and disappeared into myself. Stay calm, you've done this before, I told myself.

“How we doing?” You asked nervously after a few minutes of silence.

“Just… drive…” I exhaled heavily, preparing myself for the next wave to hit.

And hit it did; suddenly every part of my being squeezed and screamed at me to push and I had no choice but to comply. My legs widened as far as they’d go, I pulled my body closer towards the fridge, lifting myself up and hanging off the ridge with my forearms. The head was starting to peek through, I could feel it, and there was no way I could hold off from bearing down. My hips tilted backward and I pushed with everything I had. A long and guttural moan sang from my lungs as I pushed, the head slowly crowning into my underwear. We weren’t going to make it!

“Stop!!!!” I screamed. “Pull over!”

“But-”

“The head-is-coming out…. Pull over now!”

The truck rocked and shuddered as you brought it to a halt. You sprang from the driver’s seat and on your way accidentally switched on the jingle sounds of the ice cream truck, the tune ringing from the speakers on the roof.

I barely noticed the doors to the truck being opened and closed, or you climbing inside - all my energy was focused solely on getting this baby out of me.

“What can I do?” You frantically asked, but only got more guttural noises in reply as I continued to bear down.

Releasing the push with a huff, I panted quickly saying “I think it’s crowning… hoooo…”

“We need to get those leggings off babe. Are you able to move? If you can get on all fours I should be able to roll them down.” You were as white as a sheet but you squashed your fears, knowing I’d need assurance and confidence right now.

Following your instructions I moved to all fours, and I soon felt your hands around my waist pulling at the tight fabric trying to roll it over the large bump and down my thighs. We had to stop part way for another contraction and another round of pushing. The baby’s head was stretching me so wide and I could tell it must be showing through the fabric when I heard you gasp.

“Oh my god, the head is coming out!” You exclaimed.

“I know that! I can feel it.” I snipped sarcastically.

“Sorry honey. You’re doing amazing. But I still need to get these leggings off you…”

I grunt, bearing down once more with the contraction, and I can feel the resistance of the baby hitting the wall of my stretched leggings. When the push was over I cried out “Go! Do it now!” and you scrambled at the waistband of my clothing and rolled the elasticated fabric down my damp thighs.

“Do you want me to take them completely off?” You asked but I could barely think, the next wave was already here and all I could do was push.

I wanted to widen my knees, to open up my burning hips to make the required space for the baby to pass through, but the tight fabric of the leggings pulled around my knees was preventing any further movement. I whimpered in my struggle; I needed to open my body wider and push but I simply couldn’t. In my desperation I went from my hands down to my elbows, my forehead touching the floor, my backside raised to the sky and I pushed with everything I had. I needed to get the head out and I had to get it out now.

“Easy babe,” you said softly, and I could feel your hand over the baby’s emerging head. “Take it steady, it’s crowning. Try and pant if you can, let it come on its own.”

“Hooohooo- oh fuck- I need to get it out…. Can’t hold off- oh I need to push!” I screamed.

Before you could tell me otherwise my body jerked as the head popped out and I groaned at the relief. Lifting my head slightly I bring a trembling hand down my body and between my thighs to feel - your hands were there too, cupping the newly born head of our child. You moved, letting me feel - the ears the nose, the hair - our baby. Your fingers then gently stroked the back of my hand, no words were said as our hands entwined, squeezing each other. The love, encouragement and support all conveyed within that squeeze.

We were suddenly startled by a gentle knocking on the window booth.

“Hey mister, can I have an ice cream please?” The excited voice of a child said from outside the truck.

With the delirium and exhaustion of childbirth I couldn’t help but laugh. You heard my hitched breathing, worried I was crying, and asked “Babe, what is it? Are you okay?”

My laughs got a bit more distinguished as I raised back up onto my hands and twisted to look at you. “This is one hell of a birth story…” I giggled.

“Ha. Maybe this one will take over the family business.” You joke, relieved to see me smiling during this eventful and inconvenient birth. “Sorry kid, no ice cream today.” You shouted through the walls of the truck.

“Oooo- hoooo- babe… mnggghhhh… it’s coming….” I shift and grunt, bracing both hands on the floor and surrendering to the contraction once more. “Fuck… why didn’t we take my leggings off!?”

“Keep going babe, the shoulders are coming. You can do it. Yes!… one shoulder…”

“Grrrrhhhhhhhh!!!!” I groaned loud and long, pushing through the excruciating stretch of the shoulders.

“…two shoulders… and again push honey push!!!!”

“Mnnnghhhh- catch it!!!” I screamed, and a second later the baby fell into your waiting hands and instantly cried.

Tears sprang from my eyes at the sound and I immediately twisted my body and legs around so you could hand me the babe.

“It’s a girl.” You said proudly, putting the slippery newborn against my chest.

“Hi baby… hi.” I cooed, lifting my thin t-shirt and placing her against my chest. “You were in a hurry weren’t you.”

#birth denial #birth kink #clothing birth #birth fic #inconvenient birth #public birth #birth fiction #birth prompts #car birth #answered asks #my writing

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thehanalia · 6 months ago

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edenesth · 1 year ago

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The Secret Admirer

Pairing: school rival!San x fem!reader (featuring Wooyoung)

AU: high school au (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 14k

Summary: As a new transfer student in KQ High, you start receiving anonymous love notes and gifts that leave you both intrigued and confused. It becomes a secret admirer mystery at school and everyone has their theories about who it might be. Could it be your crush, Wooyoung, as you'd hoped or the annoying Choi San?

A/N: This is lowkey inspired by ATEEZ's The Real music video. San looked so good here, he's literally unreal.

ATEEZ Masterlist

Mingi let out a sigh filled with anxiety, his gaze fixed on the imposing school building that would be your new home. You pursed your lips, throwing an arm over his shoulder as best you could, your best friend towering over you by at least half a head.

"I'm really scared." He admitted, shoulders sagging under the weight of his apprehension.

In an attempt to ease his tension, you playfully nudged him on the head, "Oh, come on, Mingi. We didn't leave our old school behind just for you to remain scared here. I promise things will be better."

He managed a forced smile, wanting to show strength for your sake.

Your previous school was a nightmare, a toxic environment where bullies ruled the place, and even teachers struggled to maintain order. Wealthy students received special treatment, while the rest of the students became targets of the elite.

Poor Mingi had suffered the worst of it.

He endured relentless bullying that left him with severe anxiety.

As his best friend, you had done everything in your power to protect him, but the odds were stacked against you when you, like him and everyone else, were only from a regular-income family.

In the end, you two suffered together, united by the daily struggle.

You had talked to your parents about the situation, and together with Mingi's parents, they agreed to transfer both of you to a new and more promising school in the neighbourhood.

That's how you found yourselves standing before KQ High.

It was your first day at this new school, and while you were filled with optimism, Mingi still carried the weight of his old fears.

"Hey, no matter what happens, I'll be right here with you, okay?"

His genuine smile finally broke through, and he pulled you into a side hug, "Thanks, buttercup. You're the best."

You smirked and dramatically flipped your hair, "I know. Now, let's get going, dumbass. We can't afford to be late on our first day. Trust me, you don't want to be a laughingstock."

With his laughter accompanying you, you both headed towards the unknown, already feeling a little lighter and more hopeful about the new journey ahead.

Lucky for the two of you, the first period of the day turned out to be an unexpectedly pleasant surprise.

As you and Mingi settled into your seats in the classroom, you exchanged a look of amazement. This was already a stark contrast to your previous school, where you had grown accustomed to the oppressive atmosphere of fear and hostility.

Today, however, there were no bullies in sight, and the atmosphere felt refreshingly different.

Everyone in the class greeted you both with polite smiles and warm words of welcome upon your first meeting. It was as if they genuinely cared about their studies and the well-being of their fellow classmates.

The teacher, Mr. Kim, a kind and enthusiastic educator, introduced himself with a cheerful demeanour.

He took the time to get to know each student, making sure to pronounce everyone's names correctly and asking about their interests and aspirations.

It felt like a breath of fresh air compared to the apathetic instructors you had encountered before.

As the class began, you found yourself immersed in the subject matter, something that had rarely happened at your previous school. The other students seemed equally engaged, and there was an air of camaraderie as you all shared your thoughts and ideas.

During a group activity, you and Mingi teamed up with a couple of classmates, who were eager to include you in the discussion. They listened attentively to your input and shared their own insights. It was a stark departure from your past experiences of being isolated and ridiculed.

The minutes passed, and the first period drew to a close.

As you gathered your belongings, Mingi turned to you with a smile that reflected his growing sense of relief and happiness.

"Can you believe this, buttercup?" He whispered, his eyes wide with amazement, "No bullies, no weird stares, just normal people treating us like... well, normal people."

You returned his smile, "I know, Mingi. It's incredible. I think we might have finally found a place where we belong."

Mingi nodded, and together you both left the classroom, carrying a newfound sense of hope and optimism. The journey was just beginning, but for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were on the right path, surrounded by classmates who were genuinely kind and a school where learning was valued above all else.

But perhaps you might have spoken a little too soon.

In the blink of an eye, a rather intimidating figure appeared before you just as you were making your way to your locker.

The collision was unavoidable, causing the stranger to drop his stack of books. You gasped, immediately bowing multiple times and apologising profusely, not wanting to escalate the situation.

Considering how kind everyone had been so far, you expected this guy to graciously accept your apology.

Oh boy, you couldn't have been more wrong.

Reality proved quite different as he responded with a withering glare, accompanied by a muttered curse under his breath. He then scoffed, "Sheesh, get yourself a pair of glasses if you can't see properly."

Your heart sank, and you could feel your optimism from earlier wavering. It seemed that not everyone was as welcoming as you'd initially thought.

Should've known things were too good to be true.

Not one to back down easily, you rolled your eyes and clenched your jaw in annoyance, "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that a rat crawled up your ass and died there, because what the heck, dude? There's no need to be rude, it was clearly just an accident."

Mingi's eyes widened at your audacious response, panicking.

He quickly grabbed your arm and attempted to pull you away, stammering, "N-no, she didn't mean that! We're new here, so she's not familiar with the rules yet. She reacts strangely to shock... ha ha... We'll just be on our way, sir."

You scoffed, tugging your arm stubbornly out of Mingi's grasp, determined to confront this douchebag, who you now knew as Choi San, thanks to his name tag. You huffed in irritation, "Sir? I think not. Stay put, Mingi. I've got this."

San responded with a smirk, his disbelief evident in his expression, "You? What are you going to do, Miss Smarty Pants?"

To your best friend's absolute chagrin, you rolled up your sleeves, sizing the bully up daringly, fully prepared to fight if necessary.

But before you could do or say anything rash, someone stepped in between you and San, "Whoa, whoa, calm down, let's all take a deep breath. There's no need to fight, I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding."

He turned to you after shooting San a quick glare in warning, "I apologise on behalf of my friend here. He's just having a rough day. I assure you, he's not always like this."

You wished you could respond with collected composure, but you were utterly captivated by the stunning young man who had just intervened. Mingi, sensing the atmosphere, joined you and bowed, "I'm truly sorry as well. She isn't usually like this, I promise."

The guy shook his head warmly, reassuring, "No, please, you have nothing to be sorry for."

While you were momentarily lost in admiration, your best friend took charge of the conversation on your behalf, "I heard you both are new?" The guy inquired, and Mingi nodded, introducing both of you.

He offered a friendly smile, "Oh, it's nice to meet you two. I'm Wooyoung, and this is San. We happen to be the president and vice president of the baseball club. Perhaps you could both come over and take a look once you've settled in."

Finally finding your voice upon hearing this invitation, you enthusiastically chimed in, "We'll definitely be there!"

San couldn't hide his annoyance, clearly vexed by your shift in demeanour due to his best friend's presence. After exchanging a few more pleasantries with Wooyoung, you went separate ways.

As you and Mingi walked home together after school that day, he couldn't help but express his concern.

He shot you a reproachful glance and said, "Seriously, you almost got into a brawl with San back there. You can't just let your temper get the best of you like that."

You took a deep breath, your expression softening as you explained.

"Mingi, I didn't want to fight. I just... I wanted to make sure we don't become targets like we were at our old school. Sometimes, you've got to let people know you're not someone to mess with so they'll leave you alone. It's not about aggression, it's about self-defence."

He sighed, realising your perspective, "I get it, buttercup, but let's try to handle these situations differently, okay? We're in a new place, and maybe things will be different here."

You nodded, understanding his point and promising to exercise more restraint in the future.

Just like your nickname, Mingi named you after the Powerpuff Girl who resembled you the most. While you enjoyed teasing him and playfully referring to him as your princess, you were like his protector; embodying the qualities of a tough hotheaded tomboy, much like the actual Buttercup.

The conversation then took a lighter turn as Mingi began talking about the president of the baseball club, "Did you see the way Wooyoung handled the situation? He's so cool. I hope I can be like him one day."

A dreamy smile crossed your face as you thought of the handsome baseball club president, "Yeah, Wooyoung is something else, isn't he? So confident and composed. It's like he's got this natural charm about him."

Mingi chuckled, catching the starry look in your eyes, "Someone's got a little crush, huh?"

You rolled your eyes playfully, but there was no denying it – there was something undeniably captivating about Wooyoung that had left an impression on both of you.

As you continued your walk home, you wondered what other adventures and encounters awaited you in this new and intriguing chapter of your high school life.

A week had passed since you and Mingi had started attending KQ High, and things were shaping up quite well.

The two of you had managed to make some new friends here and there, and the best part was that you could finally focus on your studies without the looming fear of being bullied.

As you both sat down for lunch in the school courtyard, the sun shining brightly overhead, you felt a sense of contentment. The atmosphere was different here, and it was refreshing to know that you could be yourself without constantly looking over your shoulder.

Mingi took a bite of his sandwich and then turned to you, a mischievous glint in his eye, "You know, I've been thinking. We should pay a visit to the baseball club soon."

You grinned, realising where he was heading with this, "I was just about to say that! I mean, Wooyoung and San did seem pretty cool, it wouldn't hurt to check out what the club is all about."

He nodded in agreement, excitement in his voice, "Exactly! We've literally already met the most important people in the club. Wooyoung's the president, and he's so sweet and welcoming. Plus, San's the vice president, he might not be as warm and fuzzy, but he's still part of the team."

You both chuckled at the thought of San's initial grumpy demeanour.

You were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps Wooyoung had been right, perhaps San was just having a bad day.

Your best friend continued, "Besides, I hear the baseball club is pretty popular here. It could be a great way for us to finally get more involved in school activities."

With a determined nod, you replied, "For sure. Let's finish our lunch, and maybe we can swing by the club after classes today. I guess it's about time we step out of our comfort zone and try doing what normal students do for a change."

His eyes lit up with enthusiasm as he agreed, "Sounds like a plan. Who knows, maybe we'll discover a hidden talent for baseball or make even more friends along the way."

As you both finished your lunch and chatted about your upcoming visit to the baseball club, you felt a sense of excitement for the adventures and friendships that awaited you at KQ High.

The afternoon sun was dipping low in the sky as you and Mingi made your way to the baseball club's practice field. You were both excited to see what the club had to offer and meet more of your new schoolmates.

However, as you approached the field, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Wooyoung was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, San was there to greet you and Mingi.

You tried to shake off the uneasy feeling that had settled in your stomach, reminding yourself that maybe San had just been having a bad day when you first met him.

As you approached, his expression remained stoic, and he barely acknowledged your presence. He turned to Mingi with a polite nod and said, "Hey, you're Mingi, right? I'm San, the vice president. Nice to meet you."

Mingi smiled and extended his hand, shaking San's, "Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you too, San."

You felt a pang of frustration.

San had greeted Mingi with politeness, but when he turned to you, his demeanour shifted completely. He didn't offer a handshake or a smile; instead, he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"And who are you?"

The blatant hostility in his tone caught you off guard.

You felt your patience wearing thin as you replied, trying to maintain your composure as you gave him your name, "I'm Mingi's friend. We're both new here, and we wanted to check out the baseball club."

His response was a scoff and a dismissive wave of his hand, "Figures."

You exchanged a bewildered look with Mingi, who seemed equally taken aback by San's attitude. It was clear that the vice president had something against you, and it was infuriating to be treated so poorly when you had done nothing to provoke him.

Before the situation could escalate further, you decided to take the high road and simply said, "Well, we'll leave you to it then. Sorry for bothering you."

Mingi nodded in agreement, and you both turned to leave the baseball field, your excitement from earlier now replaced by disappointment and frustration.

You couldn't figure out why San had such a strong dislike for you.

A few days after your rather disheartening encounter with the vice president at the baseball club, you and Mingi were surprised to find Wooyoung approaching you both with a warm smile on his face.

He seemed genuinely apologetic as he began, "Hey, I heard about what happened when you first visited the club. I was away for a meeting that day, and I just wanted to apologise for San's behaviour. He was being unreasonable, and I've spoken to him about it. Sorry about that."

You exchanged a glance with Mingi, your initial tension easing at the club president's friendly demeanour, "No worries," Mingi replied diplomatically, "We understand that everyone has off days."

Wooyoung nodded appreciatively, then made an offer that took you both by surprise, "Well, how about I personally give you a tour of the club and introduce you to the other members? I promise you won't have any trouble with San this time."

You hesitated for a moment, your previous encounter with San still fresh in your mind. But the Wooyoung's sincere offer was hard to resist, and you nodded in agreement.

"Sure, that sounds great. Thank you, Wooyoung."

A few days later, you and Mingi met up with the club president at the baseball field.

He was as charming and friendly as ever, making you feel at ease. As he began to show you around and introduce you to the club members, you were impressed by the teamwork and talent on display.

But your anxiety resurfaced when you noticed San's presence.

Wooyoung had assured you that San would behave civilly, but as the tour continued, it became painfully clear that the club's vice president had no intention of including you in the proceedings.

He interacted with Mingi, offering insights and sharing stories about the club, but he completely disregarded your presence. It was as if you were invisible to him, and you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider.

You tried your best to remain composed and not let his behaviour get to you, but it was hard to enjoy the tour when you felt so excluded. Wooyoung noticed your discomfort but didn't address it directly, choosing to focus on showing you the positive aspects of the club.

Once the tour ended, you and Mingi thanked Wooyoung for his time and kindness, genuinely appreciating his efforts to make you feel welcome. But the unresolved tension with San lingered in the air, leaving you with mixed feelings about your visit to the baseball club.

After much contemplation, you and Mingi decided not to join any clubs for the time being, and instead, chose to focus on your studies and adapt to your surroundings first.

As the days turned into weeks at KQ High, your relationship with San seemed to evolve from animosity to outright rivalry.

Every interaction with him felt like a challenge, as he continuously sought to get on your nerves. He never missed an opportunity to one-up you, whether it was by bragging about his grades or teasing you for having slightly lower scores.

In the classroom, San always seemed to find a way to sit near you, making snide comments about your work.

If you scored well on a test, he would downplay it, claiming it was just luck. When your grades were slightly lower than his, he would never let you forget it, making sly remarks about your academic abilities.

Despite his childish behaviour, you were irritated by his constant need to compete. It was as if he couldn't stand the thought of you outperforming him in any way. Your rivalry with the vice president of the baseball club became the talk of the school, with classmates often teasing you both for your ongoing battles.

Amidst this rivalry, Wooyoung seemed to sense your frustration.

He became extra caring and attentive, making an effort to balance out his best friend's behaviour. The club president went out of his way to support you in your studies, offering to help you with difficult subjects and encouraging you to join extracurricular activities.

His kindness and understanding provided a stark contrast to San's behaviour, and you appreciated his efforts to make amends for his friend's actions. Wooyoung's friendship became a source of comfort and encouragement during your high school journey, and you found yourself growing closer to him as a result.

As time went on, you realised that despite the challenges posed by San's rivalry, you had a strong support system in Mingi and Wooyoung, who helped you navigate the ups and downs of high school life.

Your determination to succeed and prove yourself only grew stronger, fueled by the competitive spirit ignited by your rivalry with San.

During a brief break between classes, you were walking alongside Mingi, casually complaining about your favourite chocolate milk running out in the school cafeteria. It had become somewhat of a ritual for you to enjoy that chocolatey goodness during your short breaks, and its absence was deeply felt.

"I can't believe they ran out of my favourite milk again," You groaned to Mingi, shaking your head in disappointment, "It's like they always do it right when I need it the most."

Mingi, ever the empathetic friend, sighed in agreement, "I know, right? It's like they have a radar for when you're craving it."

As you approached your locker during the break, you prepared to grab your textbooks for the next class. However, when you opened your locker, you let out a surprised gasp.

Inside your locker, right next to your textbooks, was a carton of your favourite chocolate milk. You blinked in disbelief, your eyes widening, and your heart skipped a beat.

You reached for it and found a note attached.

Mingi's excitement was palpable as he watched your reaction, "What is it? Did someone leave you a surprise?" You pulled out the note and read it aloud, your voice filled with astonishment, "I hope your favourite milk can cheer you up. Enjoy!"

His eyes widened even more, and he couldn't contain his excitement, "Ooh, you have a secret admirer!" He exclaimed, his voice a little too loud for the quiet hallway. Your face flushed with embarrassment as the attention of your fellow students turned towards you.

You stammered, "I-I don't know who it could be."

Mingi grinned mischievously, putting two and two together, "Maybe it's someone from the baseball club, trying to impress you."

The thought had crossed your mind as well, but you couldn't be sure.

As the mystery of your secret admirer hung in the air, you felt a mixture of curiosity and delight. Who could it be that knew about your love for chocolate milk and wanted to make your day a little brighter?

As time passed, the mystery of your secret admirer deepened, and the gestures of affection continued to pour in.

Every day seemed to bring a new surprise, from your favourite snacks and drinks to essential items to get you through the day. The notes that accompanied these gifts grew sweeter by the day, and it was clear that this person knew you extremely well.

One day, you found a note that simply read, "I hope this makes you smile today," along with a bouquet of your favourite flowers.

Another time, a cosy scarf appeared in your locker with a note that said, "Stay warm and happy, always."

Your secret admirer seemed to anticipate your needs and desires, brightening your days with their thoughtful gestures. You felt a warm sense of connection with this mysterious person who seemed to know you so intimately.

Unbeknownst to you, your secret admirer had become the talk of the school.

Everyone had their own theories about who it might be, and gossip about the identity of this mysterious person spread like wildfire. Some speculated it was someone from the baseball club, while others believed it could be a classmate who had been secretly watching you from afar.

Throughout all of this, your rivalry with San continued.

He would often tease you about the "silly" gifts you were receiving, making fun of the person who would actually like you. Although his comments annoyed you, they also fueled your determination to uncover the identity of your secret admirer.

On the flip side, your bond with Wooyoung continued to grow stronger. He would occasionally do things that made your heart flutter, like lending you his jacket when you were cold or giving you his umbrella when you forgot to bring yours.

These gestures were so attentive and thoughtful that they set your crush on him into overdrive, something even Mingi wouldn't do.

As the days went by, the secret admirer mystery at school only intensified, and you found yourself torn between trying to solve the puzzle and cherishing the daily surprises that brightened your life.

One afternoon, as you and Mingi sat together in your favourite spot in the school courtyard, the topic of your secret admirer came up once again. Ever the imaginative friend, he threw out a series of wild suggestions, each more unlikely than the last.

"What if it's Seonghwa from the calligraphy club? I mean, you did have that one conversation with him." Mingi proposed, his eyes dancing with mischief.

You rolled your eyes at the idea.

"Oh come on, that's a bit too far-fetched, don't you think? Seonghwa is way too sophisticated to have a crush on me."

Mingi didn't stop there, "Okay, okay, how about Yunho from the biker's club? He did lend you a pen during that exam, after all. Could be a sign."

You couldn't help but chortle at Mingi's wild theories.

"Dude, you're trippin'. Yunho is practically a legend in this school. He's got way better things to do than leave me love notes."

Mingi shrugged, conceding, "Yeah, you're probably right. And then there's Yeosang, the untouchable genius and president of the student council. Maybe he's secretly smitten with you."

You burst into laughter, "Mingi, you're freaking crazy! Yeosang is way out of my league. Besides, why would someone like him be interested in me?"

Mingi finally gave up on his outlandish guesses and turned to you with a smile, "Alright, buttercup. Who do you think it is then?"

You felt your cheeks flush, and you hesitated for a moment before shyly admitting, "Well, if I had to pick, I kind of wish it was Wooyoung," He grinned, nudging you playfully, "Ah, so you've got a soft spot for the baseball club president, huh?"

You blushed even deeper and playfully swatted his arm.

"Don't tease me, it's just a silly crush. I doubt he's the secret admirer anyway," His smile was warm as he ruffled your hair, "You never know, silly. Sometimes, the person you least expect can surprise you."

After your admission about your crush on Wooyoung and Mingi's continuous teasing that lasted for days, the gifts and notes from your secret admirer strangely stopped. It was as if someone had flipped a switch, and your daily bright spots had disappeared. You had grown so accustomed to the surprises that you now felt like everything was going wrong without them.

One day, as you sat in an empty classroom after school, fulfilling your cleaning duty, you couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment. You missed the small gestures of kindness that had brightened your days.

It was a particularly gloomy afternoon, you couldn't help but mope.

But your already sour mood took a nosedive when the last person you wanted to see made an unexpected appearance in the classroom. San strolled in with an arrogant smirk, clearly relishing the opportunity to get under your skin.

"Aww, still pouting because your secret admirer ditched you?" He taunted, leaning casually against a desk.

You tried to ignore him, focusing on your cleaning duties, but his relentless teasing was beginning to wear on your nerves. He continued to make snide remarks about your admirer, insinuating that you might have been sending the gifts and notes to yourself just to create the illusion that someone would like you.

"Are you sure you didn't send yourself all those things just to make yourself look desirable? I mean, who in their right mind would even like you enough to do all this?"

Each of his words stung like a needle, and you clenched your fists in frustration. You had no idea why your secret admirer had suddenly stopped, but the insinuation that you were faking it only fueled your irritation.

Finally, you couldn't hold back any longer.

Turning to face him, you snapped, "You know, San, not everything revolves around you and your constant need to belittle others. Just because you can't stand the thought of someone being nice to me doesn't mean you have to make up stories to feel better about yourself."

His smirk faltered for a moment as he realised the depth of your anger. You had rarely spoken up to him in such a manner, and it took him by surprise. Before he could respond, you turned away and focused on finishing your cleaning duties.

The emptiness in your heart weighed heavily on you, and you wondered why your secret admirer had disappeared and whether you would ever find out the truth.

As you continued to clean the classroom, feeling down after your encounter with San, you didn't expect anyone else to notice your mood.

But as you were lost in your thoughts, you suddenly heard a familiar voice calling out your name.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You turned to see Wooyoung standing in the doorway, concern evident in his eyes. He had apparently noticed your sombre expression and had come to check on you.

You managed a weak smile, not wanting to burden him with your troubles, "I'm fine, Woo. Just a bit tired, that's all." He didn't seem convinced but respected your response.

Instead, he offered, "Well, how about we grab some ice cream after this? It might help brighten your day." The offer caught you by surprise, and you felt a glimmer of hope. Ice cream sounded like a perfect way to lift your spirits.

You nodded in agreement, "Sure, that sounds nice."

As you walked to the nearby ice cream shop after school, Wooyoung did his best to engage you in conversation, trying to cheer you up. His genuine concern and friendly demeanour made you feel a bit better, but you couldn't shake off the nagging thought about your secret admirer.

Sitting in the ice cream parlour, you stared at him as he talked animatedly about various topics, you wondered if he could be the secret admirer. The thought played like a broken record in your mind.

Part of you wanted to ask him why he had stopped the gifts.

But the logical part of your brain reminded you that it couldn't possibly be Wooyoung. If he were the one behind the thoughtful gestures, he wouldn't be here with you right now, trying to cheer you up in person.

So, you pushed aside your doubts and worries, allowing yourself to enjoy the moment with him. As you savoured the sweet taste of your ice cream, you appreciated his kindness and friendship, even if the mystery of your secret admirer remained unsolved.

After your outing with the baseball club president, you found yourself pondering your feelings and the mystery of your secret admirer even more. The conflicting emotions swirling within you left you feeling confused and unsettled.

Unable to contain your thoughts any longer, you decided to confide in Mingi. As you both sat in his bedroom, you opened up about your feelings regarding Wooyoung and the secret admirer.

"Mingi, I just don't understand," You began, your voice tinged with uncertainty, "I've been so fixated on this secret admirer, but I really like Wooyoung. He's caring, attentive, and he's been there for me. So why do I feel so sad about the gifts and notes stopping?"

Mingi regarded you thoughtfully before gently pointing out.

"It sounds like you're describing two different people. If you like Wooyoung and he's been caring towards you, then shouldn't that be enough? Why does it matter if the secret admirer stopped?"

His words struck a chord, and you realised he was right.

Why were you so bothered by the absence of your secret admirer when you believed it to be Wooyoung all along? Did you secretly wish it were someone else? Had your feelings for Wooyoung not been as strong as you thought?

You let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of your conflicting emotions, "I don't know. Maybe I got carried away with the idea of a secret admirer, it shouldn't diminish what I feel for Wooyoung."

Mingi nodded in understanding, his expression gentle.

"Exactly, buttercup. You don't need a secret admirer to validate your worth or the kindness Wooyoung has shown you. Sometimes, our own expectations and fantasies can cloud our feelings."

Reflecting on Mingi's words, you realised that your fixation on the secret admirer had indeed overshadowed your true feelings for Wooyoung. It was time to appreciate the genuine connection you had with him and let go of the mystery that had consumed your thoughts for so long.

As you decided to let go of the idea of the secret admirer and focus on your budding relationship with Wooyoung, life seemed to return to normal. You enjoyed the time you spent with him, cherishing his caring gestures and the genuine connection you shared.

But one day, as you sat in the school cafeteria with Mingi, you expressed your frustration, "Ugh, can you believe it? They've run out of my favourite chocolate milk again. It's like they do it on purpose."

Mingi sympathetically patted your shoulder, "I know. It's their conspiracy against you, clearly."

After lunch, you returned to your desk in the classroom, expecting another mundane afternoon. But as you opened your bag, you let out a gasp of surprise. There it was, a carton of your beloved chocolate milk, sitting neatly on your desk.

Mingi's eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the milk, then at you.

"It's happening again!"

You were equally shocked, your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and curiosity.

The return of your secret admirer was unexpected, and you wondered who could be behind it. Picking up the carton of milk and examining it, you find a familiar note attached. It simply read, "I thought this might make your day better."

The mystery had resurfaced, and you exchanged puzzled glances with Mingi. It seemed that your secret admirer was back, and you couldn't wait to uncover the truth behind these thoughtful gestures once and for all.

As the days went by, you noticed that Choi San seemed to be everywhere lately.

It was as if he had suddenly taken an interest in your daily activities. He would pop up in unexpected places, finding clever ways to get your attention, though his teasing had taken on a different tone.

His jokes had shifted from being insulting to more lighthearted and harmless. While you still found yourself annoyed by his constant presence, you couldn't deny that his newfound playfulness was less aggravating than before.

Despite your long-standing rivalry and the initial bad impression you had of each other, you noticed that San's behaviour had changed. He was no longer the relentless tormentor but rather someone who seemed to enjoy engaging with you in a teasing, albeit less hostile, manner.

You found yourself in an odd position.

While you didn't exactly hate him as much as you used to, the memories of your first encounters and the rivalry that had defined your relationship still lingered. It was hard to completely let your guard down around him, even though his intentions appeared to have shifted in a more positive direction.

As you navigate this newfound dynamic with San, you wonder if there was more to his change in behaviour. Was it possible that he had also grown tired of the constant rivalry and had decided to take a different approach in your interactions?

The uncertainty only added to the intrigue of the situation, leaving you both baffled and intrigued by his unexpected transformation.

One afternoon, you found yourself in the library, engrossed in a study session with Wooyoung. The two of you had been diligently working on your assignments and preparing for upcoming exams. The peaceful atmosphere of the library was perfect, and you were grateful for the club president's presence.

But your concentration was disrupted when you noticed San approaching your table. He wore an unhappy expression, and you grumbled in annoyance at his sudden, unwanted presence.

"Hey, Woo," San said with feigned nonchalance, "Mind if I hang out with you guys for a bit?"

Wooyoung, always the peacemaker, smiled and gestured to an empty chair, "Of course, Sannie. Join us. But please, be nice to her."

San acted as if he reluctantly accepted the invitation.

In between your study session, Wooyoung received an urgent phone call that required his immediate attention. He apologised for having to leave and promised to return as soon as he could.

You sighed as Wooyoung left, knowing that you were now alone with San. You asked, "Why are you still here, San? You said you wanted to hang out with Wooyoung," He shrugged, feigning indifference, "Well, I also need to study, you know. Can't be slacking off all the time."

You rolled your eyes, sceptical of his true intentions.

"Fine, whatever. Just don't disturb me."

As you continued to work on your assignments, you came across a particularly challenging math problem that left you frustrated.

San, who had been quietly studying himself, noticed your struggle. Surprisingly, he leaned over and said, "You know, I'm pretty good at math. Need some help?"

You were taken aback by his offer, not expecting such a gesture from someone you had considered your rival for so long. After a moment of hesitation, you reluctantly agreed.

"Okay, fine. Help me with this one."

His explanation turned out to be clear and concise, and you couldn't help but acknowledge that he was indeed skilled in math.

As he helped you in solving the problem, you thought to yourself that maybe he wasn't as unpleasant as you had initially thought. It seemed like he still had the capacity to be a decent person when he chose to be.

The following day, you sat alone in school as the rain poured outside, your chances of staying dry were dwindling rapidly.

Wooyoung was absent, and Mingi had to leave school early for a family emergency, leaving you to face the downpour alone. To make matters worse, you had forgotten your umbrella and raincoat again, a rookie mistake that left you feeling like a complete idiot.

You sighed deeply, hoping against hope that the rain would subside, but it only grew heavier as the minutes passed. After waiting for over an hour, you realised you couldn't stay in school forever.

With a resigned determination, you wrapped your arms around yourself and braced for the inevitable.

Running out into the torrential rain, you were immediately drenched, and your vision blurred as the water streamed down your face. It was a miserable situation, and you cursed your bad luck.

Like the idiot you were, you ended up tripping over something on the ground, scraping your knee painfully on the wet pavement. The pain was sharp, and you couldn't hold back the tears that welled up in your eyes.

You've got to be kidding me, can this day get any worse?

As you sat there in the pouring rain, nursing your injured knee, a shadow appeared in front of you. An umbrella was unfurled above your drenched body, shielding you from the relentless rain, and a hand was extended toward you.

You looked up in surprise, your vision still blurred by raindrops, and to your astonishment, it was San who stood before you.

The last person you expected to come to your aid.

"Need some help?" He asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

You hesitated for a moment, torn between your ingrained rivalry and your need for assistance. But the pain in your knee and the relentless downpour pushed you to accept his help.

You reached out and took his hand, allowing him to help you up from the wet ground.

As you stood under the umbrella he provided, you felt a strange mixture of gratitude and disbelief because it was San, of all people, who had come to your rescue in your moment of need.

He walked you to the nearest bus stop, offering some protection against the relentless rain. Surprisingly, he was gentle as he helped you sit down and examine your scraped knee. You instinctively pulled away, insisting that you were fine, but he was undeterred.

He knelt down beside you, a look of genuine concern in his eyes.

The sight of him worrying and caring about you was so foreign that you wondered if this was the same Choi San you had known all along.

"Let me take a look." He said softly, reaching out to inspect your scraped knee.

Reluctantly, you allowed him to examine the injury.

He was surprisingly gentle, his touch careful to avoid causing you any more pain. It was a stark contrast to the way he had treated you in the past, and it left you feeling perplexed.

San reached into his bag and pulled out a bandaid, holding it up for you to see, "I always carry a few of these just in case." He explained.

You watched as he helped you apply the bandaid, his actions careful and considerate. Despite your reservations and the history of animosity between you, there was no denying that his concern was genuine.

Looking at him more closely now, you never fully appreciated how handsome San truly was. His slightly damp hair from the rain, coupled with the intense look of concentration on his face as he tried not to cause you more pain, proved to be more appealing than you had expected.

You couldn't believe this, he was making your heart race.

As he finished applying the bandaid, you wondered who this person was and what he had done to the real Choi San.

The conflicting emotions within you made it clear that things were far from simple, and you found yourself questioning your long-held animosity towards him.

After the unexpected kindness from San during the rainstorm and the way he had treated you lately, you felt confused and conflicted. It was a stark departure from the rivalry and animosity that had defined your relationship for so long.

Seeking some perspective, you decided to talk to Mingi about the vice president's sudden change in attitude. As you both lounged in your favourite spot in the school courtyard, you hesitantly broached the topic.

"Mingi, have you noticed how different San has been lately?" You asked, trying to make sense of your feelings.

Your best friend, ever the optimist, offered a reassuring smile.

"Maybe he's just grown tired of the rivalry too, buttercup. People change, you know? Perhaps he's realised that it's best to act civil and put the past behind us."

While Mingi's words were comforting, you still struggled with your emotions. The disdain you had for San had been ingrained in you for so long that accepting his sudden kindness and change of heart was a challenge.

A small part of you resented him for making you feel this way, for shaking the foundation of your long-held beliefs about him.

It was difficult to let go of the past and embrace the possibility of a different relationship with someone you had considered your rival for so long.

A small part of you worried about the possible evil intentions behind his change. The uncertainty left you feeling torn between your deep-seated animosity and the possibility of a new beginning.

As time went on, you continued to receive more and more endearing gifts from your secret admirer. The notes accompanying these gifts became sweeter with each passing day, and it was clear that this mystery person knew you well.

The thoughtful gestures brought a smile to your face, brightening your days and making you feel cherished.

Oddly enough, the timing of these gifts seemed to align with Wooyoung's actions in a way that left you wondering. Many of the surprises were things that he had observed you enjoying or had casually mentioned in conversation.

As a result, rumours began to circulate among your classmates, and the popular theory was that the baseball club president was your secret admirer.

The idea filled you with hope and a flutter of excitement.

The thought that Wooyoung might be the one behind these gestures made your heart race, and you couldn't help but imagine a future where you could be with him.

However, amid this whirlwind of gifts and speculations, San's behaviour remained an enigma.

He was still working on redeeming himself in your eyes, often intervening whenever you and Wooyoung seemed to get closer. It was as if he couldn't stand the thought of you and his best friend becoming a couple.

His actions left you perplexed.

You wondered what had prompted his newfound determination to change. The more he tried to insert himself into your life, the more it fueled your curiosity about the true nature of his intentions.

As the days passed, you found yourself caught between the allure of the secret admirer's gifts and the complicated dynamics between you, Wooyoung, and San. The mysteries and complexities of your high school life continued to unfold, leaving you in a state of both excitement and confusion.

Today, you were on a school trip to the museum for the history class.

The class was filled with a sense of anticipation and curiosity that seemed to revolve around you and Wooyoung.

Everyone around you, including Mingi, seemed to be paying close attention to your interactions with the baseball club president. It was as if they were fully convinced that he was your secret admirer.

You hadn't exactly been oblivious to the little squeals your classmates would occasionally let out whenever Wooyoung did something sweet, like draping his blazer over you when it was cold or taking his time to patiently explain what you didn't understand as you walked through the exhibit together.

San, on the other hand, trailed behind the crowd with a sour expression.

The vice president of the baseball club disliked the sight of you and his best friend getting so close. The rumours and speculations had reached their peak, and he couldn't hide his frustration.

When the group settled down for lunch at the museum cafe, you found yourself sitting with Wooyoung, Mingi, and a few other members of the baseball club.

San, unfortunately, had no choice but to mix with other classmates since your table was already full.

During the meal, your friends couldn't resist teasing the club president about his attentiveness to you, jokingly asking when he was going to reveal himself as the secret admirer. Wooyoung blushed from the teasing, and you stared at him, curiosity and anticipation building within you.

With a slight smile, Wooyoung bit his lip and locked eyes with you.

"Must I be the secret admirer for you to like me?" He asked, his voice soft but filled with a hint of vulnerability, "What if I tell you, I'm not that person?"

The revelation hung in the air, leaving everyone at the table shocked and speechless. You, in particular, felt overwhelmed by the unexpected turn of events. You had been so convinced that he was your secret admirer, and now it seemed that the truth was something entirely different.

The mystery had deepened, and you were left wondering who could be behind the thoughtful gifts and gestures that had captured your heart.

As the shock of Wooyoung's revelation settled in, you felt a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts swirling within you. It was a perplexing mix of confusion, disappointment, and self-reflection.

Initially, you had been so convinced that Wooyoung was your secret admirer, and the prospect of that idea had excited you to no end.

But now, faced with the truth that he wasn't the one behind the anonymous gifts and sweet notes, you found yourself questioning why you had been so upset.

You realised that you had allowed your feelings for Wooyoung to become entangled with the idea of him being the secret admirer. It was as if you had equated your affection for him with the mysterious gestures and thoughtfulness of the anonymous person.

In reality, your crush on Wooyoung had been based on his kind actions and his charming personality, not on the deep connection that you thought you had developed because of the secret admirer's gestures.

Deep down, you couldn't deny that you felt a stronger connection to the secret admirer, as it seemed like this person knew you better than anyone else.

The gifts and notes had felt personal as if they were tailored to your likes and preferences. It made you question the authenticity of your feelings for Wooyoung, realising that they might have been built on a more superficial foundation.

As you grappled with these conflicting emotions, you told yourself that your feelings for Wooyoung should be independent and not dependent on what the secret admirer did or didn't do.

Wooyoung was, after all, his own person and your feelings for him should be based on who he was, not on the anonymous acts of kindness that had momentarily clouded your judgement.

After a moment of silence that seemed to weigh heavily on both of you, you could see a slight hint of disappointment in his eyes.

You couldn't let this moment pass without addressing his question.

"I'm sorry, Woo," You began, your voice soft and apologetic, "I do like you, I really do. But I need to find out who the person behind the anonymous gifts and notes is first, it's important to me."

His expression shifted, and he forced a smile, "I understand," He replied, his voice filled with understanding, "Take your time. I'll be here, waiting for your answer."

Mingi, who had been quietly observing the exchange, sensed your discomfort and decided to step in. He offered his gratitude to Wooyoung for taking care of you so far and claimed that he would take over looking out for you after lunch.

The tension in the air seemed to dissipate.

You were grateful for the understanding and support of both Wooyoung and Mingi. It was a complicated situation, but you were determined to unravel the mystery of your secret admirer and figure out where your heart truly belonged.

As the teacher continued explaining the historical artefacts at the museum, you found it increasingly difficult to focus.

Your mind was still trying to digest the fact that Wooyoung was not your secret admirer, and the revelation had left you feeling somewhat distracted.

Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly felt a presence beside you.

It was San, and he couldn't resist teasing you for not paying attention. His playful jab was enough to snap you out of your trance, and he challenged you to a quiz to see who could answer more questions correctly.

At first, you hesitated, still feeling a bit overwhelmed by the recent turn of events.

However, his persistence and friendly competitiveness eventually won you over. You accepted his challenge, and together, you both started paying closer attention to the teacher's explanations.

As the quiz progressed, you found yourself engaged and focused, eager to prove your knowledge. San's enthusiasm and determination were contagious, and he pushed you to think critically about the artefacts and their historical significance.

In the end, the quiz ended in a draw, with both of you answering an impressive number of questions correctly.

You were touched by his effort to help you get back on track and stay engaged in the lesson. It was a small gesture, but it made you realise that maybe, just maybe, your rivalry could turn into something different.

The bus ride back to school after the museum trip had ended found you somehow seated in the final row between Wooyoung and San. Mingi couldn't resist throwing you sly glances, wiggling his brows in a playful manner. You scoffed and rolled your eyes at his antics, trying your best to ignore him.

As the journey continued, the rhythmic motion of the bus and the hum of the engine started to lull you to sleep.

Your eyelids grew heavy, and soon enough, your head swayed and landed on Wooyoung's shoulder, causing a few students to let out affectionate coos at the sight.

San, however, had other plans.

He gently moved your head from Wooyoung's shoulder over to his own, a small, smug smile playing on his lips as he watched you unconsciously snuggle closer to him.

Mingi, sitting nearby, widened his eyes at the unexpected turn of events, making a mental note to tell you about this later.

Wooyoung, on the other hand, looked away and focused his gaze out the window, his expression unreadable but clearly upset. It seemed like both San and Wooyoung were having an internal battle between themselves, each trying to win your attention and affection in their own way.

The tension between the two of them simmered beneath the surface, creating an unspoken rivalry that was beginning to take a toll on their friendship.

In the days following the museum trip, Wooyoung seemed to sense your need for some space and gave you a bit of room to sort through your feelings and thoughts.

The revelation that he wasn't your secret admirer had left you somewhat confused, and you found yourself wanting to uncover the mystery more than ever.

Mingi, always full of wild ideas, suggested that it could be San who was behind the anonymous gifts, especially considering his recent drastic change in behaviour toward you.

It wasn't entirely impossible, but you couldn't bring yourself to believe it.

After all, the gifts had started arriving when you and San were still rivals, and he had even mocked you for receiving them, insinuating that you might be sending them to yourself. The idea that he could be your secret admirer just didn't add up in your mind, and you were adamant that it couldn't be him.

There's no way in hell it could be Choi San.

As you sat alone on the bleachers one day, deep in thought, San suddenly appeared beside you, holding a carton of your favourite chocolate milk.

Your eyes widened in surprise.

The chocolate milk had become a special symbol of your connection with the secret admirer, and it left you wondering how San could possibly know about it.

He offered you the carton with a casual smile, his gaze meeting yours as if he had something important to say. The puzzle pieces in your mind began to shift.

Holy crap, could he be..?

"I found this on your desk, I'm guessing your secret admirer must have left it there." You let out a sigh of relief, realising that, of course, he couldn't have been the one behind this gesture.

He was just being friendly and helpful.

As he settled down beside you, he noticed the contemplative expression on your face and asked, "What's on your mind?"

You wondered when it had all begun, this change in his demeanour towards you. He was treating you so casually, almost like friends, and it left you both intrigued and perplexed.

But you chose not to voice your thoughts out loud, not wanting to risk a quarrel with him.

Instead, you decided to be honest and opened up about your problem with the secret admirer, "It's the thing with my secret admirer... It sucks but it bothers me that it isn't Wooyoung. I just can't figure out why I'm so disappointed by the truth. I guess I just... really wanted it to be him."

To your surprise, San offered you genuine advice.

"If you're disappointed that it's not Wooyoung," He began, "Maybe it's because he's not the one you truly like. Perhaps it's the secret admirer that you really want to be with."

His words struck a chord with you, and you couldn't help but ponder them. His insights were unexpected, and you found yourself considering whether your feelings for Wooyoung had been based on the wrong foundation all along.

It was a moment of introspection that left you with more questions than answers, but at least now, you had someone to discuss them with.

"Tell you what, I'll help you find out who this mysterious person is."

San's willingness to help you figure out the identity of your secret admirer took you by surprise. After all, it was San who had initially ridiculed you for receiving these anonymous gifts and had even been quite mean about it.

You expressed your genuine astonishment, turning to him with wide eyes, "You're really willing to help me with this?" You asked, still somewhat taken aback by his sudden change of heart.

He looked at you, his expression softening with a touch of guilt.

He admitted, "I shouldn't have said those mean words back then. I didn't mean them, and I wish I could take them back if it were possible."

His sincere apology caught you off guard, and you could see the regret in his eyes. You appreciated his honesty and his willingness to make amends, and you were thankful for his apology.

With San by your side, offering to help uncover the mystery of your secret admirer, you wondered if there was more to him than the rivalry that had defined your relationship until now. It was a surprising turn of events, and you were beginning to see a different side of him—one that left you curious and intrigued.

"Hey, San. Be honest with me, why the sudden change in attitude?"

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you finally mustered the courage to address the elephant in the room.

You observed him closely as you posed the question, watching as he attempted to keep his facial expression neutral. It was clear that he was holding back a lot when he finally answered.

"I guess I just... realised how childish I'd been the whole time," He began, his voice measured, "And I grew tired of all the unnecessary fighting between us. I also should've said this earlier but I... I'm really sorry for the way I've acted in the past, I know I was a complete jerk."

His words seemed plausible, but there was something in his eyes that suggested there might be more to the story. It wasn't entirely the truth, but you chose not to press further, not wanting to make him any more uncomfortable.

Instead, you accepted his explanation and appreciated his efforts to change for the better. It was a step towards building a more cordial relationship, and you were willing to see where it would lead.

As he had promised, he diligently assisted you in unravelling the mystery of your secret admirer. Consequently, the two of you ended up spending more time together than initially anticipated, and through this process, you gained a deeper understanding of him.

You came to recognise that when San set his mind to it, he could be just as caring and attentive as Wooyoung.

At this point, you had lost track of how many times he had managed to evoke emotions in you that you had once believed only his best friend could elicit.

The Choi San you now knew was a stark departure from the person you had first encountered, but you had no complaints about the transformation.

It wasn't until that one fateful day that you truly grasped the depth of your feelings for him.

'Hey buttercup, soz I can't walk home with you today. Got a meeting with my project groupmates, I'll see you at dinner tonight.' - Princess Minki💕

As you prepared to leave school, a sigh escaped your lips upon receiving Mingi's text about his meeting with his project groupmates, you resigned yourself to the idea of walking home alone. You didn't want to bother Wooyoung since he had been giving you space lately.

However, to your surprise, when you reached the school gates, you found San standing there, waiting.

You blinked in confusion, "San? Why are you here?"

He smiled, "I'm waiting for you. I saw Mingi leaving with his groupmates, so I thought I'd wait and walk you home."

Your heart did a little flip at his unexpected kindness, "Oh, you really don't have to do that," You said, genuinely touched by his gesture. But he insisted, his tone firm, "I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you while you walked home alone. It's the least I can do."

With a grateful smile, you nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest at the realisation that perhaps your relationship with San was slowly evolving into something more.

During your walk home with him, every step seemed to resonate with a sense of closeness that went beyond mere friendship.

The world around you faded into insignificance as he held the umbrella over both of you, sheltering you from the gentle drizzle that had started. The soft pattering of raindrops on the umbrella's surface created a soothing backdrop to your conversation.

His attention to detail was astonishing, like the way he would glance at you out of the corner of his eye when he thought you weren't looking, his gaze filled with a warmth that sent shivers down your spine.

Each shared joke felt like a secret shared between the two of you, a bond that was growing stronger with every laugh.

And when your bag slipped from your shoulder, hitting the ground with a thud, you expected to bend down to pick it up yourself, but before you could react, he had already swooped down to retrieve it for you.

His act of chivalry caught you off guard, making your heart skip a beat. It was these seemingly insignificant moments that left you questioning the nature of your feelings.

As your steps echoed in rhythm with his, you felt a magnetic pull towards him, and your thoughts began to revolve around this unexpected connection that was steadily blossoming between you two.

Without realising it, your focus gradually shifted entirely to San when you were with him. Unlike with Wooyoung, your thoughts no longer wandered to the mysterious secret admirer.

He had a unique way of capturing your full attention, and you found yourself drawn to him in a way you hadn't expected. It was a surprising development that left you in a state of denial about the butterflies he was stirring in your heart.

As you neared your home, engrossed in a conversation with him, you didn't notice the car that swerved dangerously close to the sidewalk. It happened in the blink of an eye, and before you could even react, San sprang into immediate action.

"Watch out!"

In an instant, he had wrapped his arms around you, shielding you from the potential crash.

Time seemed to slow down as you felt his strong, protective embrace. Your heart pounded in your chest, and the world around you blurred into insignificance as you found yourself pressed against his chest.

Once the danger had passed, you slowly pulled away, your breaths coming in shallow gasps.

You stared up at San, your eyes wide with a mixture of emotions. At first, you had feared for his safety, but now, as you gazed into his eyes, you felt your heart racing for an entirely different reason.

His eyes locked with yours, so full of emotion that it left you breathless. It was as if he had been so afraid of you being in harm's way, and that depth of concern was something you had never expected.

At that moment, everything seemed to change between you.

The world around you regained its focus, and you realised that you were still standing on the sidewalk, in the arms of the person who had just saved you from potential danger.

It was a powerful, intense moment that left your heart racing and your mind in turmoil as you tried to make sense of the emotions swirling within you.

The next morning, as you walked to school with Mingi, your heart was still racing from the previous day's encounter with San. The memory of his protective embrace and the intense moment that had followed played over and over in your mind.

As you approached the school gates, you scanned the crowd, looking for any sign of San.

It was almost as if your subconscious was seeking out his presence. And then, like a scene from a movie, you spotted him coming your way from the opposite direction.

Your breath caught in your throat as he drew closer, a warm smile spreading across his face, "Good morning." He greeted you, his voice friendly and genuine.

"Morning." You managed to reply, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness.

San continued on his way, walking alongside Wooyoung, who had been right beside him the entire time. It was at that moment that you realised something shocking: you hadn't even noticed Wooyoung's presence until now.

The realisation hit you like a truck.

It wasn't Wooyoung who had occupied your thoughts, even when he was right next to San. It was San himself who had captured your attention, making you question your feelings and priorities.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly when it all started, but the vice president of the baseball club had somehow become a constant presence in your thoughts. And you had lost track of how many times your heart had fluttered just from catching a glimpse of him.

Almost everything seemed to trigger thoughts of San, and you now realise that these were reactions even Wooyoung couldn't elicit from you during the time you were crushing on him.

Mingi observed you quietly, having heard about what had happened with San the previous day.

He chose to remain silent, knowing that you needed time and space to process your thoughts and emotions. As your best friend, he wanted you to find clarity in your feelings, whatever they may be.

As you entered the classroom with Mingi, your eyes were immediately drawn to your desk, where your favourite chocolate milk sat, accompanied by the usual heartfelt note.

But this time, the note held a surprise.

It didn't contain the usual sweet message; instead, it instructed you to meet up on the rooftop during lunch break.

Your heart raced as you read the note, your eyes widening in astonishment. Your secret admirer was finally revealing themselves, taking the first step towards unveiling their identity.

You couldn't believe it was happening, and a sense of excitement mixed with nervousness coursed through you.

Showing the note to Mingi, you both exchanged wide-eyed glances, realising that the moment you had been waiting for had finally arrived.

It should have filled you with happiness, but deep down, a conflicted feeling gnawed at your heart. You couldn't believe that, despite all your initial reluctance, you found yourself secretly wishing that your secret admirer would turn out to be San.

Everything about him screamed that he couldn't possibly be the one behind the anonymous gifts and sweet notes.

But as determination welled up within you, you considered the possibility of rejecting your secret admirer, someone you had admired from a distance, in favour of someone you had never imagined having feelings for; San.

The thought left you grappling with a whirlwind of emotions as you prepared for the lunchtime rendezvous on the rooftop, unsure of what lay ahead.

The rest of the morning went by in a blur, you hadn't even the slightest clue what Mr. Kim had taught you all in class.

"You can do this, buttercup!"

Mingi encourages, pulling you in for a quick hug before he pushes you towards the staircase leading up to the school rooftop.

Anxiety gripped your heart as you made your way up to the rooftop, each step echoing your pounding heartbeat. You couldn't believe the moment had finally arrived to meet the person who had been behind all the gifts and notes that had brightened your days for the past few months.

Your mind raced with questions, doubts, and a flutter of hope.

As you reached the rooftop door, you hesitated for a moment before pushing it open. The anticipation in the air was palpable, and you could hardly contain the whirlwind of emotions churning inside you.

Your heart nearly stopped when you stepped onto the rooftop, your eyes falling upon the back of a familiar figure.

A sense of suspense hung heavy in the air, and you couldn't bring yourself to move or speak just yet. The person slowly turned around, and as their face came into view, your heart sank.

It was... Wooyoung.

Your disappointment was palpable as you uttered, "Oh, it's you," in a tone that betrayed your shattered expectations. You couldn't control your reaction, and it hurt to know that it wasn't the person you had secretly hoped for.

Unfortunately for you, Wooyoung had seen your reaction clearly.

He smiled sadly, a mixture of understanding and acceptance in his eyes. He had come here not to reveal himself as your secret admirer but to confirm that you didn't return his feelings so that he could finally move on.

Realising that you had hurt him with your reaction, you immediately apologised, "God, I'm so sorry, Woo. I didn't mean to sound disappointed."

Wooyoung's smile remained gentle as he reassured you, "It's fine, really. I understand."

He took a step closer to you and spoke softly, "But I think you should know that I'm not the one who has been sending you those gifts and notes."

Confusion and curiosity washed over you as you turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest, "Then who is it?" You asked, unable to hide the eagerness in your voice.

Wooyoung smiled once more, but this time, his gaze drifted past you, "Your secret admirer is standing right behind you."

Your heart raced as you turned around slowly, each second feeling like an eternity as you wished desperately for it to be the person you'd come to secretly hope for.

Suspense hung in the air, almost suffocating, as you finally set your eyes on the figure standing there.

And then, you saw him.

Choi San.

Your heart soared at the sight of him, holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hands. His smile was so sweet that it melted your heart, and you couldn't believe the person you had once despised could be your secret admirer.

Wooyoung, having fulfilled his own purpose, discreetly left you two alone for some privacy.

San walked up to you slowly, a playful "surprise" escaping his lips as he presented the bouquet to you. You accepted it shyly, your fingers brushing against the delicate petals, but you couldn't help the flood of questions that overwhelmed your mind.

Sitting together on the bench on the rooftop, you looked at him with a mixture of astonishment and confusion, "Is this some kind of prank?" You asked cautiously, your guard still up despite the sincerity in his eyes.

He shook his head gently, his gaze unwavering, "No, I promise you, this is not a prank," He assured you softly, his eyes locked with yours, "It really has been me all this time."

A wave of disbelief washed over you.

The person who had once been your rival, who had teased and challenged you relentlessly, was the same person who had been secretly showing you kindness and affection.

The contrast was staggering.

As you looked into his eyes, you couldn't believe how you had misunderstood him for so long, and why he had chosen to hide his true feelings behind the guise of a secret admirer.

There were so many questions, but one thing was clear: your perception of Choi San was about to change in ways you couldn't have imagined.

It was time to clear the air, to understand the mystery behind the secret admirer you had come to appreciate and admire, "Okay," You began, your voice tinged with scepticism, "You need to explain everything, from the beginning. How did this all start?"

San sighed, his eyes focused on the ground for a moment before meeting yours with a hint of regret.

"I guess it all started on that first day," He confessed, "It's true that I was having a really bad day when you bumped into me, I was actually going to apologise for being rude. But then you responded with so much feistiness that it intrigued me. I've never met a girl as gutsy as you, and I found it... attractive."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Wait, you found it attractive when I fought back?"

He chuckled, a faint blush colouring his cheeks.

"Yeah, I did. I was disappointed when you didn't react the way I expected during your first visit to the baseball club. I thought you'd fight back, but you left so timidly. So, I decided to ignore you the next time I saw you, hoping it would get a reaction out of you."

Your mind was reeling from this revelation.

The rivalry between you two had been initiated because he enjoyed seeing you argue back. It was a strange reason, but it explained a lot about his behaviour.

"So, you admired me because of our arguments?"

He nodded, a sheepish smile playing on his lips, "Yes, I admired your spirit and intelligence. But I also realised I couldn't express my admiration openly because of our rivalry. So, I chose to become your secret admirer."

You laughed at the irony of it all, "Wow, this is so unexpected. I thought you just enjoyed tormenting me," He grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes, "Well, that was part of it. But there's more to it than just that."

As you continued to talk, you realised that the person you had once viewed as your rival had harboured feelings of admiration and attraction towards you all along.

San shifted uncomfortably on the bench, his expression more serious now, "There's... something else too." He began, his gaze fixed on the bouquet of flowers you held.

Your curiosity was piqued once again, "What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, he continued, "I... I know I stopped leaving you the notes and gifts at some point." You immediately knew what he was referring to, remembering how upset you had been.

He glanced at you, his eyes filled with a hint of remorse, "It was around the time I overheard Mingi teasing you about your crush on Wooyoung. It saddened me because I thought maybe it was time for you to focus on being with him."

You furrowed your brow, surprised by this revelation, "You stopped because of that?"

He nodded, his expression conflicted, "Yes. I didn't want to stand in the way of you and Wooyoung, especially since he's my best friend."

His lips curled into a small, self-deprecating smile, "And that's where I messed up. I thought it was a selfless act, but then I saw how upset you were at the absence of the gifts, and I decided to tease you about it. I wanted to see your reaction, and that's when I realised I really hurt your feelings."

Your eyes widened as you recalled that particular encounter, "I was genuinely angry that day," He nodded, his gaze downcast, "I deserved it. I realised that's not how you treat someone you like."

You both sat in silence for a moment, the weight of his confession sinking in. It all made sense now, that was the point when he had suddenly started being nicer to you.

It was clear that San had been struggling with his feelings and the situation had become even more complicated when he saw you growing closer to Wooyoung, just like everyone else, believing he was your secret admirer.

The jealousy he had felt was something he hadn't expected.

"But... why didn't you just talk to me about your feelings?" You finally asked, your voice soft. He sighed, his shoulders slumping, "I guess I was scared. Scared that if I revealed everything, I might lose our friendship, and I couldn't bear the thought of that."

You reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "San, you don't have to be scared anymore. We can figure this out together."

He looked up at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and gratitude, "Thank you for understanding."

With your newfound understanding, you both continued your conversation, unravelling the complexities of your relationship and the unexpected twists and turns that had brought you to this moment.

The rooftop seemed to hold its breath as you absorbed all that San had shared with you.

The weight of the past few months, the ups and downs, the misunderstandings, and the revelations hung in the air. It was as though a puzzle had finally been pieced together, and you could see the bigger picture clearly now.

As you took a deep breath, you noticed that San was fidgeting, his gaze shifting between your eyes and the ground. There was something he needed to say or do, and the anticipation gnawed at you.

Finally, you couldn't contain your curiosity any longer.

"San," You began gently, "Is there something else on your mind?"

He looked up, meeting your eyes with a mixture of nervousness and determination. His voice was a bit shaky as he spoke, "Actually, there's one more thing I need to ask."

Your heart raced as you waited for him to continue, wondering what else could possibly be left unsaid after everything you'd discussed.

With a deep breath, he scooted closer to you, his eyes locking onto yours, "I've liked you for a long time now, and I've realised that I don't want to hide it anymore. I want to be with you. So, um... Would you be willing to be my girlfriend?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding loudly in your chest.

This was the moment you had never expected but secretly hoped for. You looked into his earnest eyes, and a warmth spread through you, washing away any lingering doubts or hesitations.

A smile broke across your face, and it was filled with genuine happiness, "Yes, San. I'd love to be your girlfriend."

His expression shifted from nervousness to pure joy, a radiant smile matching yours. He reached for your hand, and you willingly entwined your fingers with his, sealing the moment.

It felt as though the weight of all the misunderstandings, rivalry, and secrets had been lifted, leaving behind a newfound connection and the promise of something beautiful between you and Choi San.

As your hands remained entwined and the smile lingered on your faces, he felt a surge of happiness and anticipation. The rooftop, once a place filled with secrets and uncertainties, was now a witness to the beginning of something new.

He leaned in closer, his heart pounding louder with each inch he closed. The moment felt right, and he was ready to kiss you, to seal this new chapter between you two. But just as he was about to close the gap, you suddenly asked another question, pulling him back from the brink of that sweet, anticipated moment.

"Wait," You said with a curious expression, "So, Wooyoung knew about you being my secret admirer this whole time?"

San blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected interruption. He chuckled at your inquisitiveness, "Well," He began, "Not exactly. He found out on the day of the school trip when my jealousy got the best of me."

You chuckled along with him, realising how strange and tangled the web of emotions and secrets had become. He continued, "We decided to have a fair competition from then on, letting you be the one to choose who you liked more."

Your laughter filled the rooftop as you shook your head in disbelief at the absurdity of it all, "I can't believe all this drama happened behind the scenes."

He grinned, his thumb gently caressing your hand, "Life's full of surprises. But hey, at least it all worked out in the end."

With that, he leaned in once more, and this time, there were no more interruptions. Your lips met, sealing your newfound relationship with a sweet and memorable kiss.

On that rooftop, amidst the laughter and revelations, you and San found the beginning of something beautiful, free from rivalry and filled with the promise of love.

As the days turned into weeks, your relationship with San blossomed, and soon enough, you became the talk of the school.

The first time the students saw you both showing up hand in hand, they gasped in disbelief. Whispers and surprised glances followed your every move. But the attention didn't faze you or San; you were too wrapped up in each other to care.

San became a constant presence in your life.

He'd walk you to your first-period class, bending down to plant a gentle kiss on your lips before heading to his own. During lunch breaks, he'd wait for you patiently, and you'd share meals and laughter with Mingi, whose perpetual presence as the third wheel now felt like an integral part of your daily life.

Wooyoung, once a central figure in your life, gracefully accepted your rejection. He moved on, finding happiness elsewhere, and he was genuinely happy for you and his best friend.

The baseball club's dynamics might have shifted slightly, but it remained as strong as ever, with you visiting occasionally to watch their practices and games.

Your relationship with San brought not only love but also newfound friendships.

San and Mingi grew exceptionally close, despite your boyfriend's initial annoyance at your best friend's constant presence. The two eventually bonded over their shared affection for you and their mutual admiration for each other.

With each passing day, your connection with San deepened, and you found yourself falling in love with him more and more. The days of rivalry were long behind you, replaced by a sweet romance that left you both feeling fortunate to have found each other.

On a bright, sunny afternoon, you and your boyfriend found yourselves on the school rooftop, enjoying a cute little picnic date. The rooftop had become your special spot, a place where you could escape the hustle and bustle of school life and just be together.

As you laid out a checkered blanket, he couldn't resist stealing a sweet kiss from your lips. Your laughter filled the air, and you playfully pushed him away before retreating into his warm embrace.

His fingers gently traced patterns on your arm as he gazed into your eyes, a look of pure adoration on his face.

San, his eyes soft and contemplative, looked out over the campus below before turning his gaze toward you, "You know, I've been thinking... Would you have liked me if I hadn't riled you up so much when we first met?"

Your smile widened as you considered his question.

It was true; your initial encounters with San were filled with endless banter and rivalry. But as you thought back on those moments, you realised something profound.

"Ooh, that's an interesting question. Honestly, a part of me is glad you did. It made your presence known, and, well, quite impactful," He smirked, "Impactful, huh? So, you miss those days of constant teasing and rivalry?"

Your heart skipped a beat as you weighed your response carefully.

The truth was, while those early days had been filled with challenges and unknowing sparks flying between you two, you wouldn't trade the bond you now shared for anything else.

Shaking your head, you responded, "Not at all! I much prefer the sweet boyfriend you are now."

His eyes sparkled with affection as he inched closer to you. He couldn't resist the warmth of your words and the love that radiated from your gaze. Tenderly, he cupped your cheek and pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

"God, I love you so much." He whispered against your lips.

Your heart swelled with happiness, and in that intimate rooftop setting, your love was sealed with a sweet, lingering kiss.

But just as the romantic atmosphere began to envelop you both, a loud groan interrupted your moment, "Jesus Christ! Get a room, you two! We're in school, for Pete's sake!"

You rolled your eyes and snapped your head up to see your best friend standing at the entrance to the rooftop, grinning mischievously despite the complaints as he approached with a familiar carton of your favourite chocolate milk in hand.

"Surprise!" Mingi announced, offering you the coveted treat, "I thought you might want this."

You laughed as you accepted the milk, realising that even on your private date, Mingi managed to insert himself into the picture. It was one of those quirks that made your friendship all the more special.

With the three of you now lounging on the rooftop, surrounded by the warmth of friendship and newfound love, Mingi couldn't help but reflect on how drastically things had changed.

He spoke with a playful tone, "You know, it's kind of funny. You two were literally at each other's throats for as long as I can remember. And now, look at you, all in love with each other."

You and San shared a fond look, both realising that sometimes, the most unexpected journeys lead to the most beautiful destinations. As you cuddled close, basking in the joy of the present moment, you knew that your love story was a testament to the power of change, friendship, and the unexpected.

Your love story had its share of twists and turns, but in the end, it was a tale of two hearts finding their way to each other, against all odds.

Well damn, this turned out slightly longer than I'd planned.

Anyway, hope y'all liked this! Thank you for reading and as always, I'd love to hear all your thoughts on the story so feel free to leave as many replies as you want! <3

Also, do let me know if you wish to be added to the permanent tag list for all my works (or if you wish to be removed, I'd understand).

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg

#edenesth #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #choi san #ateez san #high school au #enemies to lovers #san x reader #san x you #ateez fic #san oneshot #ateez oneshot

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